I.N.CH'^^r^'fr'.r   '■ 


■  REESE  LIBRARY  ■ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 
zAicessions  No.(p  / Jl  ^^ .     Claras  No.     Q  ^O.    \ 


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ELLEN  SEYMOUR, 


OTHER    POEMS. 


THOMAS     HEATH. 


[UNIVERSITY; 


SAN    FRANCISCO: 
PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AUTHOR, 

AND   FOR   SALE   BY   A.    ROMAN   AND   COMPANY, 

Nos.  417  and  419  Montgomery  Street. 
1868. 


6f±^^ 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868, 

By    THOMAS    HEATH, 

In   the   Clerk's   Office   of  the   District   Court  of  the   United   States  for  the 
District  of  California. 


Bacon  &  Company,  Printers, 
536  Clay  Street. 


INDEX. 


Ellen  Seymour 

A  Mother's  Love 

To  THE  Forget-me-not 

Solitude 

Remembrance  of  Thee   . 


Lady  Celestine 58 


A  Legend  of  the  Western  Sea 
An  Ode:  Dedicated  to  H.  S.,  Esqr. 
Among  the  Lilies    .... 

Content  

The  Dying  Swan      .       .        ,       .       , 
In  Memoriam         .        .       ,        .        . 
A  True  Heart         .... 
The  Lay  of  a  Weary  Heart 
Lines  on  the  Death  of  a  Lady 
The  Lost  Flower         .... 

A  Tale 

Adieu 

To  A  Loved  One       .     .  . 


67 

75 

8s 

88 

90 

93 

96 

98 

102 

107 

109 

"4 

.  IIS 

At  Parting 117 

The  Last  Lily 

Treasured  Thoughts 

Lays  of  Greece — Mytilene 

"  **  Paris 

"  •'  Gr^cia 

Marianne 


119 
121 

126 
132 


IV 


The  Bridal .        .       .135 

Beatrice .      138 

With  Gentle  Love 144 

Stella  Matutina        .  ' 146 

Refugium  Peccatorum 148 

Mater  Dolorosa 150 

Lines  to  Tintern  Abbey 164 

The  Golden  City 172 

Columbia    ..." 176 

EARLY    POEMS. 

Dedicated  to  H.  A.  J.,  Esqr.,  B.  A. 183 

Spring 185 

Flowerets 187 

Come 196 

Shadows 198 

The  Storm 200 

EccE  Homo 202 

Consolation 203 

Religion 204 

Dewdrops 205 

The  Morning 207 

Lay  to  the  Sea 209 

The  Bells 210 

The  Clock 212 

Death 215 


ERRATA. 


Page  74 :  For  Volcan's  mighty  throws,  read  Volcan's  mighty  throes. 
Page  131 :  For   Fawns  no   longer  by  thy  waters,  read  Favms  no  longer  by 
thy  waters. 


PREFACE. 


The  inditing  of  the  following  lines  of  poetry  has  served 
as  an  agreeable  occupation  for  the  mind  during  leisure 
hours,  and  they  are  now  like  crumbs  thrown  upon  the 
waters  of  the  ocean  of  literature  which  is  constantly 
agitated  by  conflicting  currents,  as  is  the  bosom  of  the 
unfledged  author,  by  hope  and  fear ;  and  I  trust  that  the 
perusal  of  them  may,  in  like  manner,  afford  an  hour's 
agreeable  relaxation  to  some  of  the  many  votaries  of  the 
Muses. 

As  an  author,  I  am  a  beginner,  and  therefore  beg  the 

indulgence  of  my  readers,  as  I  lay  claim  to  no  other 

merit  than  simplicity  and  the  total  absence  of  pretension 

in  the  following  poems. 

T.  H. 

San  Francisco,  August,  1868. 


ELLEN     SEYMOUR. 


I. 

A    LITTLE  village,  drap'd  in  robes  of  night, 

Where  fragrant  roses,  arid  fairest  flowers 
In  dewy  slumber  'wait  the  coming  day 
From  out  the  clouds,  that  from  chaos  seem  to  rise, 
And  soar  above  the  hills  that  bound  the  scene. 
Anon,  bright  day  dawns  like  a  youthful  bride  ; 
And  feather'd  warblers  welcome  in  the  sun. 
With  carols  that  awake  the  slumb'ring  soul, 
And  call  the  lab'rer  forth  to  till  the  soil. 
White  hawthorn  blossom  scatters  perfume  round, 
And  crowns  the  morn  with  fairest  diadem  ; 
And  delving  deep  to  rob  it  of  its  juice. 
The  bee  alights  upon  each  honey'd  flow'r 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

And  hums  the  softest  strains  :  for  loving  soul 

Like  to  ^olean  chords  at  sunset  hour. 

But  hark !  unto  those  chimes,  like  lyric  hymn 

Coming  upon  the  fragrant  summer  breeze, 

Admonishing  of  time  that  passes  by. 

And  waits  not,  e'en  to  hear  a  blissful  sigh. 

A  new-born  hour  comes  in,  the  hour  of  five. 

When  from  the  mountain  top  the  post  horn  sounds 

A  blast  that's  joy  to  some,  to  others  grief; 

And  rattling  wheels  are  heard  the  village  thro', 

As  comes  the  morning  messenger  with  news 

To  cheer,  or  render  desolate  some  hearth. 

In  yonder  copse  a  throstle's  tuneful  notes 

Add  charms  unto  the  rustic  village  scene  ; 

On  yonder  hills  the  sheep  and  cattle  graze 

In  quiet,  save  the  tinkling  of  the  bells 

That  from  straying  far  keeps  the  flocks  and   herds. 

A  limpid  brook  comes  babbling  o'er  the  slope 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  9 

Which  is  spangl'd  with  buttercups  and   May-flow'rs, 

And  stronger  grows,  and  swells,  as  on  it]^flows 

Adown  the  valley,  where  it  turns  the  wheel 

Of  the  old  mill  that  totters  now  with  age. 

The  sound  is  pleasant  as  the  wheel  revolves  ; 

And  sunbeams  make  the  falling  waters  shine 

Like  streams  of  pearls,  rolling  to  eternity. 

Below,  a  loudly  roaring,  boiling  foam 

Of  whirlpools,  strong  and  threatening  in  their  m  ien, 

Until  again  a  gently  purling  stream 

Where  rushes  grow,  and  flags  display  their  flow'rs. 

Children  hast'ning  unto  the  village  school. 
With  merry  voices  make  the  woodland  ring: 
Their  rosy  cheeks,  arid  lips  of  rosier  red. 
Denote  the  bright  content  of  heart  within. 
O,  for  these  happy  days  to  come  once  more  ; 
How  I  have  longed  for  joyous  days  like  these : 


to  ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 

The  village  school  life,  and  the  village  play, 

When  all  is  brightness  ;  for  the  heart  knows  love 

That's  uninur'd  to  soft  deceits  and  woes. 

There  are  at  times  upon  the  page  of  all. 

Fond  moments,  that  return  to  other  days  ; 

And  then  a  thrill  of  joy  at  once  vibrates 

Thro'  each  drop  of  blood,  whisp'ring  peace  and  love. 

We  well  remember  how  some  other  heart 

To  childhood's  fondness  love  entwin'd  with  ours, 

To  live,  and  cast  its  after  influence 

Upon  our  course,  when  love  seem'd  lost  to  us. 

Tho'  fifty  summers  o'er  our  heads  have  past. 

The  scenes  of  childhood  come  as  fresh  as  day — 

With  village  stream,  and  vernal  hills  and  lanes 

To  deck  with  joy  our  hearts  and  souls  again. 

O,  wondrous  life  !  that  thus  the  early  dawn 

Should  be  to  cheer,  when  age  is  passing  o'er. 

O,  wondrous  mystery!   yet  so  sublime. 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  1 

To  Speak  sweet  peace  when  woe  is  on  the  brow, 

And  home,  and  youth,  a  mother's  love, 

To  melt  the  hardest  heart  of  fallen  man. 

Ah  !   Ah  1   fond  scene,  my  spirit  where  it  will? 

Behold  whate'er  I  may,  I'm  with  thee  still, 

Tho'  vict'ry,  honor,  added  to  my  name, 

My  thoughts  of  thee  will  ever  be  the  same. 

MOriTlVERsiTT) 
II. 

A  fine  domain  ;   and  on  the  rising  ground 
The  Gothic  mansion  of  a  rich  man  stands  ; 
An  avenue  of  old  and  stately  oaks 
Is  the  approach  unto  this  ancient  seat. 
This  home  of  virtue,  love  and  charity.  ' 

His  family,  a  son,  reaching  man's  estate. 
Three  fair-hair'd  daughters,  and  a  loving  wife, 
Fill'd  with  the  virtues  of  a  Christian  soul : 
A  tender  mother,  she,  thro'  every  care. 


2  ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 

But  one  of  these  was  flower  of  the  flock, 

Belov'd  by  all,  her  very  sight  rever'd. 

As  she  would  pass  each  cotter's  simple  home,  • 

Or  'minister  unto  their  urgent  wants. 

And  children  in  the  village  at  their  play 

Would  bow  and  c'urtesy  as  she  passed  by  ; 

And  tell,  when  home  they  came  from  school. 

Of  her  melodious  voice  that  in  the  hymn 

Join'd  theirs,  and  sang  unto  the  King  of  Kings. 

Charm  of  each  one  that  moved  in  her  sphere. 

Love  of  her  was  centered  in  each  heart ; 

And  when  the  shades  of  eve  o'erspread  the  earth. 

Her  merry  voice  true  pleasure  would  impart. 

Scarce  clos'd  a  day  upon  this  happy  home 

But  she  had  been  engag'd  in  goodly  work, 

To  satisfy  the  promptings  of  a  soul 

Alli'd  to  something  higher,  mightier. 

Than  ordinary  things  of  daily  life. 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  1 3 

Hard  by,  young  William  liv'd — an  only  child 
Of  widow'd  mother,  who  in  means  reduc'd* 
Fought  hard  against  her  lot  in  alter'd  life; 
And  William  was  a  worthy  son.     Deep  read 
And  learn'd ;  well  spoken  of  by  village  poor. 
And  these  two  families  h^d  long  been  friends. 

One  eve  in  summer,  when  the  vesper  dew 

Fed  the  drooping  roses,  and  reviv'd  their  glow. 

Two  gentle  hearts  with  beauty's  essence  fill'd 

Spoke  the  language  of  mysterious  love  ; 

And  life  seem'd  come  from  some  angelic  clime 

To  make  their  pure  and  tender  passions  flow. 

Quickly  the  rose-tint  left  fair  Ellen's  clteek. 

As  timidly  she  lifted  up  her  eyes 

To  meet  the  glance  of  William  as  he  came ; 

And  registered  in  heaven  was  that  love, 

Which  to  describe  is  not  the  gift  of  thought. 

She  early  hasten'd  to  her  couch  that  eve, 
2 


14  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

And  religion's  glories   shone  upon  her  heart, 

When  in  her  prayers  she  gently  breath'd  his  name, 

And  begg'd  her  God  fulfill  a  Father's  part. 

Her  heart  that  ne'er  before  had  known  love's  pang, 

Was  filled  with  emotion,  and  a  stream 

Of  scalding  tears  flow'd  freely  down  her  cheek 

From  true  affection — 't  was  a  virgin's  dream. 


"When  in  the  sky  the  pale  full  moon 

Rises  above  the  woody  height, 
Then  lovers  hold  their  festal  noon. 

And  silver  fairies  haunt  the  night. 
Their  queen  upon  the  waveless  lake, 

Beneath  a  lily  pearly  white 
Slumbers  awhile,  the  sunbeams  break 

And  unto  flowers  give  delight ; 
But  when  the  twilight  like  a  dream 

Comes  falling  o'er  the  mountain's  crest. 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  1 5 

Then  hies  she  to  the  woodland  green 

To  rouse  the  fairy  band  from  rest : 
And  cries,  come'!  come  !  the  moon  is  bright, 

Come  from  the  fragrant  cowslip  bells. 
Come  and  skip  in  the  dewy  night. 

Come  !  come  !  come !  from  the  honey'd  cells. 
Forthwith  the  placid  starry  night. 

Bride  of  the  bygone  golden  day. 
Is  all  ilium 'd  from  fairies  bright. 

In  silv'ry  gossamer  robes  at  play. 
Array'd  in  beams  of  lovely  truth, 

Beneath  a  spreading  myrtle  tree, 
A  tender  maiden  and  a  youth 

Spoke  the  heart's  fond  ecstasy. 
And  called  on  the  placid  night 

To  hear  the  vows  from  lovers'  lips. 
Uttered  in  the  moon's  pale  light, 

Where  Flora  the  bright  dewdrop  sips ; 

rUi:^!  vBHSITy) 


f5? 


1 6  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

And  echo  in  the  sylvan  glen, 

Sister  of  melancholy  night, 
Brought  back  the  vows  to  them  again 

And  gave  their  startled  hearts  delight. 

But  then  an  angry  father's  stern  decree 
Would  sever  hearts  that  love  had  firmly  bound. 
And  she  was  left  in  wretchedness  to  weep. 
But  ne'er  in  spirit  be  from  William  free. 
Deni'd  her  sight,  he  oft  at  eve  would  steal 
Into  the  shrubbery,  near  to  the  house. 
And  in  her  chamber  window  see  the  light 
Gf  flick'ring  lamp,  as  perhaps  she  pray'd  ; 
And  in  the  darkness  he  would  meditate, 
And  thank  his  God  that  he  was  ever  near. 

G,  could  our  minds  the  future  penetrate, 
And  see  the  consequence  of  stern  resolve ; 
G,  could  paternal  love  by  heaven's  smile 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  1 7 

The  fate  of  brightest  hopes  and  beauty  see, 
Poverty,  a  brand  of  crime  would  never  be. 
Love  seated  in  her  heart,  she  knew  not  peace, 
And  prayed  night  and  day  unto  her  God, 
That  he  would  grant  her  soul  release  from  sighs, 
And  dry  the  stream  of  tears  that  ever  flow'd 
For  him  she  lov'd,  for  whom  she  suffered  all. 
And  who  to  her  seem'd  in  the  very  air. 
And  in  each  leaf  mov'd  by  the  passing  breeze. 

A  maiden's  prayer  !  wish  of  a  pure  heart. 
Unto  the  Giver  of  all  earthly  gifts. 
Breathing  the  words,  "  My  William,  live  for  me, 
O,  grant  that  he,  my  William,  live  for  me." 
Not  with  same  pleasure  doth  she  touch  the  harp  ; 
The  merry  smiles  have  ceased  now  to  play 
Across  her  face  that  once  was  brightly  lit 
With  mellow  tints  of  health,  and  sweet  content ; 
For  love  in  saintly  purity  is  there  ; 


1 8  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

And  she,  once  happy,  is  a  drooping  flow'r. 
Such  is  the  diverted  current  of  pure  hearts. 
And  altho'  months,  and  weary  years  roll  past, 
And  the  summer's  heat,  and  the  winter's  cold 
Blow  o'er  the  heart,  there  comes  no  change  ; 
For  love  is  life,  and  life  is  death,  and  death 
Is  only  a  gentle  step  to  brighter  spheres. 


III. 
Flowers  never  die, 

But  live  forever. 
On  true  love  rely: 

It  ceaseth  never. 
Tho'  time   cruel  be. 

Heaven  is  still  near ; 
The  heart  is  never  free 

From  the  soul  once  dear. 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  19 

Bubbles  rise  and  burst, 

Rivers  still  roll  on ; 
Storms  may  rage  their  worst, 

Hope  is  ne'er  bygone. 
Wintry  blasts  may  blow, 

Hoary  age  come  on, 
Hearts  be  drooping  low. 

Sun  of  morn  shines  on. 

;tJHIVERSITTj 

Doubts  may  fall  at  eve, 

Darker,  drearier. 
Naught  doth  them  relieve. 

Life  grows  wearier. 
Morning  bringeth  light, 

Mem'ry  wakes  to  bliss; 
Happy  is  the  sight. 

True  love  's  not  remiss. 


0  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

IV. 

Fast  were  the  sun's  rays  sinking  in  the  west, 
As  for  a  foreign  shore  a  lone  bark  sail'd 
And  from  its  deck  a  young  man  gazed  back 
Upon  his  country,  passing  fast  from  view ; 
And  woe  was  in  his  heart,  for  there  was  one 
Ofwhom  he  thought,  and  whom  this  parting  day 
'Most  seem'd  to  him  to   number  with  the  past. 
During  that  long  voyage  he  thought  of  her; 
Her  living  picture  shone  upon  his  breast, 
And  in  his  dreams  of  innocence  and  youth 
Love's  brightest  star  gave  to  his  spirit  rest. 

Unto  a  lonely  isle  in  tropic  sea 

William  went,  and  there  in  trading  pursuits 

Was  he  engaged ;  for  'twas  necessary 

That  he  should  toil  to   gain  his  daily  bread. 

In  leisure  time  he  cultivated  flow'rs, 

And  thought  of  Ellen,  as  with  tender  care 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  21 

He  trained  the  roses  o'er  the  lattice  work, 
And  wish'd  her  near  to   see  his  rosy  bow'rs. 
The  brightest  visions  beamed  on  his  soul, 
When  in  the  starlight  he  would  fondly  gaze 
Upon  the  ocean  lying  calm  and  still ; 
For  there  love's  echo  seem'd  to  whisper,  hope  ? 
At  times  he'd  wander  o'er  the  coral  strand, 
And  watch  the  roaring  sea-waves  rise  and  fall ; 
And  see,  by  chance,  long  distance  off  the  land, 
A  bird  returning  'fore  the  night  came  on. 
And  wrapt  in  thought  he'd  fly  to  days  bygone: 
But  not  a  murmur  e'er  escap'd  his  lips, 
For  he  had  faith  to  buoy  his  feeling  heart. 
To  give  him  hope  in  God  and  man,  in  one. 

V. 

Years  sped  quickly  past.     Roses  bloom'd  and  died 
Troubles  came  and  went,  parcel  of  the  past ; 


2  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

Yet  one  deep  sorrow  dwelt  in  Ellen's  heart, 

But  conscience  whispered  into  her  ear 

The  law  that  bids  the  child  love  and  obey, 

And  she  submissive  was  unto  her  state. 

The  home  that  once  so  happy  was,  was  gone, 

And  all  the  luxuries  of  life  withal, 

For  time  had  fallen  there  with  heavy  hand, 

Poverty,  and  almost  want.     Oh !  what  a  fall. 

Oh  !  what  a  scene  within  that  ancient  house. 
Where  hearts  were  rending,  and  a  mad'ning  mood 
Had  seized  Ellen's  father ;  and  he  tried 
To  call  a  curse  upon  the  man  that  brought 
This  hardest  sorrow  upon  all  he  lov'd. 
But  she  cried  :  "  Stay  !  oh  father,  stay  that  curse  ! 
And  leave  the  man  to  conscience  and  to  God ;" 
The  curse  was  stayed  in  her  father's  throat. 
Beneath  affliction  both  her  parents  died. 
When  she  was  forc'd  to  live  from  charity; 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  23 

And  oh  !  sympathy,  have  pitying  heart 

For  one  who  has  so  tenderly  been  bred ; 

And  should  ye  meet  such  souls  beneath  some  shade, 

In  Christian  mercy  fill  a  Christian's  part. 

VI. 

The  dark  night  pass'd,  the  morn  was  breaking. 
The  flowers  were  fresh  to  see ; 

And  I  kept  watch  'till  I  was  weary, 
AVaiting  alone  for  thee. 

'Twas  long  since  I  knew  and  lov'd  thee. 

My  heart  was  light  and  gay; 
But  that  sad  night  my  heart  was  broken, 

Because  thou  wert  away. 

When  the  church  bells  chim'd  the  midnight  hour, 

Wearied,  I  could  have  slept ; 
With  heart  grown  sad,  I  would  have  died, 

And  from  my  soul  I  wept. 


.24  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

I  tried  to  sooth  my  drooping  heart, 

But  peace  was  not  for  me, 
Until  I  knelt  me  down  and  pray'd 

Our  God  would  set  me  free. 

It  was  then  I  knew  that  peace  would  come, 
And  strong  my  heart  became ; 

It  was  then  I  laid  me  down  to  rest 
With  hope;  'twas  not  in  vain. 

VII. 
A  dismal  winter,  that  had  been  severe, 
With  sharp,  cold,  biting  frosts  and  piercing  blasts, 
Had  now  passed  o'er,  and  again  once  more 
The  flowers  of  nature  bloom'd,  and  grac'd  the  earth ; 
And  Ellen  by  hard  teaching  gain'd  her  bread. 
A  rich  wooer  came  ;  it  was   a  summer's  day, 
AVhen  woods  and  blossoms  spoke  of  brightest  hope, 
And  little  birds  gave  out  their  blithest  hymns 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  2$ 

As  tribute  offered  to  sweet  nature's  Lord; 
But  she  to  him  a  stern  refusal  gave; 
And  when  herself  with  solitude,  save  God, 
In  thanking  him  she  breathed  William's  name. 
Trusting  in  God,  she  knew  religion's  worth, 
And  thus  she  toiled  on,  day  after  day, 
Ofttimes  wearied  out,  from  grief  and  pain, 
Her  eyes  were  tired,  when  she  late  at  night 
Would  sit  to  mend  her  almost  threadbare  clothes  ; 
And  as  she  sat  one  night  at  work,  she  thought. 
What  if  I  could  but  go  where  William  is  : 
And  some  voice  gave  the  word  back  to  her,  go  ! 
And  she  was  sore  afraid  at  what  she  heard, 
But  in  her  fear  she  called  on  the  Lord. 

O  give  me,  O  give  me,  the  summer's  day, 
When  the  woods  and  fields  are  all  in  bloom, 

And  some  little  bird  sings  its  blithesome  lay. 
As  the  sun's  rays  fall  in  the  month  of  June. 


26  ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 

'Tis  then  when  we  ramble  with  soul-grief  bound, 

Some  powers,  instinctive,' the  shackles  unbind; 
And  myriads  of  insects  minute  are  found. 

To  whisper  of  hope   to  the  weary  mind. 
-     The  instinct  within  climbs  higher  and  higher, 

As  the  eye  looks  on  some  little  bird's  nest; 
For  love  of  a  Maker  the  heart  doth  inspire, 

And  speak  to  the  soul  of  a  future  rest. 
The  swallow  flies  back  to  its  former  haunt. 

From  a  sunnier  clime  over  the  sea; 
The  mind  in  its  reverie  bids  woes  avaunt, 

As  it  returns  to  its  bright  infancy. 
Give  me  the  summer  when  the  sun  doth  beam. 

And  the  meadows  are  with  flowers  aglow, 
For  as  the  hart  pants  after  the  running  stream, 

Doth  my  soul  sigh  for  summer  below. 

O,  chastity !  sublime  and  sacred  thing. 

Thou  pearl  'mong  flowers,  by  God's  grace  preserv'd. 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  27 

Deem  not  thyself  obscure,  for  tender  love 
Dawns  still  on  thee,  from  climes  far,  far  away. 
One  eve  in  sadness,  'gain  this  maiden  thought, 
What  if  I  could  but  go  where  AVilliam  is  ! 
When  in  the  silence,  with  the  very  thought, 
The  self-same  voice  unto  her  whisper'd,  go ! 
When  she  was  not  amaz'd  to  hear  again 
The  word,  for  reason  to  her  God  bow'd  low  ; 
And  go,  she  did  resolve,  lost  peace  to  find; 
But  tears  bedew'd  her  cheek,  as  she  thought  o'er 
Her  means,  and  gloomy  fears  prey'd  on   her   mind. 

^UNIVERSITY- 

VIII. 

I  fancy  oft  that  face  of  thine. 

And  think  of  time  gone  by ; 
And  think  of  time  when  life  young  spring 
Had  barely  known  a  sigh. 


28  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

How  well  I  recollect  the  time 

When  affluence  was  mine  ; 
But  now  I'm  left  alone  to  mourn 

Lost  of  all  love  but  thine. 

And  know  dear  soul  thy  gentle  words 

Will  oft   fall  on  my  ear, 
To  bring  me  thoughts  of  other  days 

And  other  scenes  most  dear. 

Then  breathe  in  language  low  and  sweet, 
O,  spirit  o'er   the  sea, 
^  That  we  upon  this  earth  may  meet, 
And  be  from  sorrow  free. 


IX. 

Early  one  morn  the  postman's    knock  was  heard, 
With  letter  for  Ellen  Seymour  from  abroad ; 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  29 

Yet  she  ne'er  gave  a  thought  from  whom  it  came, 
But  broke  the  seal,  nor  could  her  eyes  believe 
That  what  she  read  was  true :  "  Come  unto  me." 
Her  heart  was  flooded,  but  with  tears  of  joy, 
For  joy  had  come  to  her  as  winged  dream. 
And  then  amaz'd  she  read,  the  needful  sum 
Would  be  unto  her  paid,  for   outfit,  and 
A  passage  in  the  good  ship  "  Arundel,'' 
Which  bears  this  letter  o'er  the  wondrous  sea. 
She  poor,  all  seem'd  unto  her  mind  a  dream  ; 
Again  she  read  the  letter,  and  again. 
Then  in  it  all  the  work  of  heaven  was  seen. 

X. 

William  had  heard,  altho'  so  far  away, 
Of  all  that  had  transpir'd ;  the  poverty,  * 
And  alter'd  state  of  her  he  fondly  lov'd, 
And  offer'd  heart,  and  welcome  to  the  shore. 
If  she  would  come,  and  with  him  live  and  die. 


30  ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 

And  now  a  visit  to  the  cypress  grove 

Where  Ellen's  parents  sleep  the  sleep  of  peace  ; 

Once  more  to  lay  sweet  flow'rs,  give  last  adieu, 

Unto  the  sod  that  covers  their  remains ; 

And  flow'rs  she  laid  on  William's  mother's  grave. 

But,  oh !  the  parting  from  this  scene  was  sad, 

For  fervency  of  youthful  love  prevail'd. 

And  tears  unbidden  flow'd  from  mem'ry's  fount; 

To  leave  this  spot  was  leaving  other  days. 

Upon  the  deep  she  sails,  to  other  lands  ; 

Her  native  isle,  alas  !  belov'd  in  vain ! 

Farewell,  fond  scenes  !  the  native  hills, 

The  native  village,  oh !  to  all,  farewell. 

The  heart  is  heavy,  and  the  sight  grows  dim  ; 

But  yet  she  sees  thee,  oh  !  thou  country  dear. 

Farewell  unto  thee,  oh !  a  fond  farewell ; 

For  him  she  leaves  thee,  oh,  farewell !  farewell  ! 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  3 1 

XI. 

Five  weary  months  upon  the  ocean's  breast, 
Five  weary  months  with  spirit  ill  at  ease, 
Then  came  a  sight  of  the  long  wish'd  for  shore ; 
The  land  of  hope,  the  land  of  many  dreams. 
The  harbor  gain'd,  no  William   was  in  sight, 
And  words  will  not  relate  her  grief  at  heart ; 
For  where  was  he  who  promis'd  with  his  love 
To  bid  her  welcome  ?  source  of  her  delight. 

Pure  as  an  angel  from  the  realms  above. 
Lovely  as  the  dew-besprinkl'd  budding  rose, 
And  with  a  spirit  near  allied  to  God, 
She  landed  on  that  charming,  sunny  isle. 
Her  heart  was  sorely  troubled,  for  she  felt 
Like  one  who  for  some  coming  danger  fears ; 
But  with  heroic  spirit  she  conceal'd 
From  others'  gaze  the  bitter  inward  tears 


32  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

His  cottage  gain'd,  then   came  a  sweet  surprise, 
To  see  the  roses  clusfring  o'er  the  porch, 
And  by  the  well  kept   borders  and  the  flow'rs. 
She  knew  of  AVilliam's  task  in  leisure  time. 
But  strange,  he  does  not  greet  her  at  the  door ; 
She  can  no  longer  keep  her  doubts  conceal'd: 
What  does  it  mean  ?     Oh  !  why  is  this,  she  cried  ; 
Does  William  Stanley  live  ?     Oh !  where  is  he  ? 
Be  calm !  be  calm !  a  stranger  said  ;   he  lives. 
But  keeps  his  bed,  his  sickness  was  severe. 
And  quickly  she  was  calm,  for  deepest  sighs 
The  love  of  God  had  mov'd,  and  he  was  near. 
She  told  her  name,  but  oh !  they  knew  it  well ; 
'Twas  the  last  pronounced  by  him  ere  reason  left. 
And  that  in  anguish,  for  his  soul  was  sad 
From  thoughts  of  her,  and  oh !  his  heart  knew  fear. 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  33 

XII. 

Once  again,  O,  much  loved  brightness, 

Come  and  give  to  my  heart  ddight;. 
Hyacinths,  in  virgin  whiteness. 

Come !  and  again  enchant  my  sight. 
A  sweet  chorus  strikes  on  my  ear, 

I  would  wish  to  join  in  the  song ; 
But  as  the  bright  time  is  so  near, 

I  would  wish  to  live  on  as   long. 

With  a  last  adieu   to  the  flowers. 

Then  I'll  leave  for  the  better  home, 
To  walk  in  the  fairest  bowers. 

And  with  the  heart  I  love,  to  roam. 
Oh  !  'tis  hard  to  part  from  the  scene 

Which  mem'ry  bringeth  to  charm  ; 
Life  might  much  brighter  have  been. 

But  her  love  the  sting  doth  disarm. 


34  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

If  SO  be,  adieu  !  to  that  form 

Which  ever  before  me  doth  shine  ; 
What  trials  for  her  how  she'll  mourn, 

Before  mystery,  deep,  divine  ; 
But  whisper  to  her  when  I'm  gone, 

And  laid  low  in  the  cold,  cold  ground, 
That  her  love  on  my  heart  ever  shone. 

And  in  heaven  my  love  will  be  found. 

'Twas  thus  he  spoke,  when  he'd   made  peace   with 

God, 
Who  deign'd  unto  his  soul  a  glimpse  of  light. 
Lovely  in  brilliancy,  preceding  darkness 
Sad  to  contemplate  ;  but  oh  !   his  was  life. 

XIII. 

Is  this  real  ?  can  my  senses  tell  me  true  ? 
That  I  have  journey 'd  over  the  sea  for  this  ? 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  35 

Oh !  welcome  day  of  peaceful  rest,  to  me, 

If  thou  art  taken  unto  realms  of  bliss. 

And  there  he  lay,  so  alter'd  and  so  wan, 

That  she  could  scarcely  know  him,  were  it  not 

The  known  expression  linger'd  on  his  face. 

She  grasp'd  his  hand,  she  kissed  his  parched  lips. 

But  no  return  of  love — his  reason's  gone. 

She  saw  it  all ;  the  voice  that  whisper'd,  go ! 

Was  voice  of  God,  to  bring  her  to  his  side. 

A  pure  heroine,  fill'd  with  Christian  love. 

She  bow'd  'fore  sorrow,  yet  she  wore  a  smile. 

And  watched  and  tended  to  every  sigh. 

And  prayed  unto  God,  whose  aid  was  nigh. 

In  danger  she  to  take  the  sickness  too ; 

But  no  !  hope's  wings  are  strong,  and  fill'd  with  love, 

She  heedeth  not  her  life,  if  ta'en  for  him  : 

And  thus  she  watches  during  night  and  day, 

From  Mercy  asking  that  his  spirit  stay. 


36 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 


The  fever's  stayed,  and  her  ling'ring  eye 

Looks  on  his  face,  as  reason  breaks  again 

To  Hght  the  heart,  and  give  the  spirit  joy. 

And  not  in  vain.     He  turns  to  her  and  asks  : 

Am  I  in  Heaven,  that  thou,  love,  art  here? 

But  no  !  I  see  it  all.     Be  not  afraid  ;  ^ 

Come  nearer  ;  but  he  could  not  further  speak 

The  hallow'd  language  of  his  glowing  heart. 

Pure  bliss  her  soul  did  sip,  to  hear  his  voice, 

Clear  and  beautiful,  as  tho'  an  angel  spoke 

Sweet  words  of  love,  to  call  forth  tears  of  joy, 

Recall  the  bloom  that  once  w^as  on  her  cheek. 

Strength  came  to  him,  at  last,  and  he  would  gaze 

Into  her  eyes,  and  firmly  grasp  her  hand  ; 

And  she  would  gaze  in  his,  and  never  tire, 

For  she  ne'er,  with  him,  felt  the  need  of  rest. 

All  fears  and  gloom  had  gone  ;  the  day  had  broke, 

And  all  was  sunshine:  summer  had  awoke. 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  37 

XIV. 

Sweetest  fragrance  was  distill'd  from  flowers, 

When  at  the  altar  of  the  church  they  stood 

To  bind  the  vow  of  love,  'fore  God  and  man, 

With  witnesses  besides  from  Courts  above  ; 

And  happy  were  they  in  their  island  home, 

For  flow'rs  of  constancy  blossom'd  in  their  hearts ; 

And  little  lilies  came  to  brighten  life, 

To  bind  the  parents  closer  in  their  love, 

With  simple  prattle  to  dispel  all  cares 

Away  from  that  thrice  hallow'd  christian  hearth. 

Not  a  Raphael's,  nor  Angelo's  art : 
Not  Rome's  antiquities,  Italy's  fam'd  scenes. 
Nor  Eastern  land  dress'd  in  loveliness. 
Can  give  the  tender,  loving  soul  a  charm 
Like  scenes,  when  fancy  wandereth  along 
The  paths  of  childhood — tho'  a  clouded  sky — 
3 


3^  ELLEN   SEYMOUR. 

To  view  the  country  home,  the  fields  and  flow'rs, 
And  loving  hearts  with  innocence  entwin'd. 
Tho'  music  is  the  voice  of  spheres  above, 
In  life,  no  strains  can  give  the  thrilling  joy 
That  is  possessed  when  we  turn  to  view 
The  long-left  sunny  home  of  early  years  ; 
And  look  upon  the  little  village  church 
AVhere  on  Sabbath  morn  in  innocence  we  pray'd  ; 
Nor  can  its  mystic  chords  reveal  the  woe 
That  is  endured,  when  in  such  a  scene 
We  see  the  vacant  chair  where  mother  sat. 
Where  we  in  childhood  used  to  kneel  at  eve. 

XV. 

Calm  was  the  lagoon  as  a  sea  of  gold 
When  the  sun's  rays  played  on  its  waters. 
Clear  and  lovely  in  excessive  brightness, 
Surrounded  by  leafy  shades  of  beauty. 
And  when  the  solemn  tones  of  the  church-bell 


ELLEN   SEYMOUR.  39 

From  the  orange-grove,  on  the  mountain  top, 
Came  o'er  the  stillness  that  was  wont  to  reign 
With  the  mellow  and  rich  garments  of  nature, 
The  scene  was  one  of  holy  enchantment. 
The  lotus  petals  open'd  to  the  sun ; 
Convolvuli  twined  clust'ring  'round  the  shrubs ; 
And  high  above  the  groves  of  cinnamon. 
Thronged  with  birds  of  the  richest  plumage. 
Cocoa  trees  waved  in  stately  majesty. 
Celestial  loveliness  was  pictured  here. 
For  quietude  continu'd  the  year  round, 
Undisturb'd,  save  when  Indians  chanted : 
And  towards  the  hour  when  the  sun  went  down 
Their  voices  came  in  the  air,  clear  and  sweet 
As  tho'  a  choir  of  angels,  from  the  clouds. 
Sang  to  cheer  some  wanderer  on  his  way  ; 
And  this  is  one  of  their  heavenly  cantiques  : 
A  leur  mere  qui  est  dans  les  cieux. 


40  ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 

Oui,  nous  t^aimons,  plaisir  de  notre  cceur 
Mais  d'un  amour  qui  n'est  pas  exprimable ; 
Que  serions-nous,  O  vierge  admirable, 
Sans  toi  qui  fais  notre  plus  grand  bonheur  ? 
Alma,  Mater  Alma. 

Espoir  du  cceur!     Oh  oui,  nous  t'aimons  tous, 
Nos  coeurs  seraient  seuls  et  pleins  de  tristesse 
Sans  cet  amour  qui  fait  notre  allegresse 
Espoir  du  coeur,  rappelle  toi  de  nous. 
Mater  Creatoris. 

Oui,  nous  t'aimons,  toi  notre  seul  bonheur, 
Pour  t'obeir  nous  donnons  notre  vie ; 
Veille  sur  nous,  vierge  digne  d'envie, 
Et  sois  toujours,  toujours  dans  notre  cceur 
Stella  Matutina. 

Such  chansons  were  taught  by  the  Mission'ry 
Who  had  lived  many  years  amongst  them : 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  4I 

Grown  old  and  gray,  beloved  by  them  all- 
Return  for  love — he  with  them  sought  to  die, 
After  fifty  years  of  labor,  reckon'd 
By  the  budding  of  leaves  of  the  palm  trees. 
William  and  Ellen,  with  their  children,  join'd 
In  the  worship  of  God  in  mystery, 
With  hearts  brightened  by  the  calm  repose 
Of  this  little  spot  in  the  wilderness. 
But  with  this  loveliness  their  hearts  would  fly 
To  the  green  lanes,  and  the  flowers  of  Spring 
In  the  little  village,  far,  far  away; 
Bright,  and  more  beautiful  to  the  mind 
Than  this  lotus-bound  isle  of  loveliness, 
Adorned  with  an  ocean  of  verdure 
Luxuriant  in  the  fragrance  of  bloom. 


Life's  voyage  down  the  human  stream  of  time 
Is  where  the  soul  first  has  a  glimpse  of  love  : 


42  ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 

From  infinity,  infinity  she  is, 
And  journeys  on  beneath  the  brilliant  beams 
That  are  but  shadows  of  immortal  love. 
To  look  from  regions  far  above  our  sphere, 
This  were  a  garden  fill'd  with  precious  flow'rs 
That  bud  and  blossom,  fade  to  sight  and  go, 
Not  to  first  principles,  but  bloom  elsewhere. 
Some  modern  shepherds  would  the  reason  stay, 
And  fain  proclaim  upon  enticing  reeds 
The  tale  of  progress,  all  this  journey  thro',         * 
And  smile  at  battles,  laugh  at  vict'ries  won, 
And  tell  of  sleep  forever  in  the  tomb. 
But  love  steps  in  and  contradicts  their  tale 
By  acts  that  spoken  tongues  can  ne'er  reveal. 
And  this  is  life.     His  soul  was  in  a  clime 
Whose  air  was  balm,  and  the  resplendent  sun 
Gave  his  diamond  rays  unto  the  shore 
And  brought  forth  fruits  and  brilliant  tints  of 
flowers, 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR.  43 

To  render  scenes  Elysian  to  the  eye. 

And  hers  was  in  a  clime  from  this  remote, 

Upon  a  shore  in  North  Atlantic  sea, 

^Gainst  which  the  angry  billows  foam'd  and  roll'd 

Where  blasts  of  winter  blew,  and  spread  dismay: 

Yet  love  still  lived,  and  soul  to  soul  would  speak 

In  tenderest  devotedness  of  woe. 

Her  heart  was  in  a  night  of  hope  and  fear ; 

But  hope  shone  forth,  and  fear  was  overcast. 

When  in  the  darkness  came  the  voice  of  love — 

Thro'  wondrous  space — and  said  unto  her,  go ! 

And  light  was  beamed  on  her  hallow'd  soul. 

Have  ye  not  had  a  moment  when  the  soul 

Has  gleamed  with  a  sudden  grace,  and  spoke. 

When  conscience  has  been  wearied  with  pain; 

Or  heart  alone,  fearful  and  desolate. 

In  the  wide  world  of  seeming  gloom  and  shade  ? 

It  may  have  been  when  hope  had  nearly  fail'd 

To  light  the  mystic  way  of  daily  life. 


44 


ELLEN    SEYMOUR. 


And  ye  were  near  the  brink  of  dark  despair. 
She  spoke !  and  thought  arose  in  happy  mood, 
And  all  was  peace,  the  pathway  clear  and  bright. 
O,  could  the  eye  but  penetrate  the  veil 
That  hangs  'tween  this  and  other  brighter  realms, 
The  heart  would  stand  aghast  at  awful  doubt, 
And  faith  triumphant  reign  thro'  weal  or  woe. 


% 


A  mother's  love.  45 


A   MOTHER'S   LOVE. 

Her  love  is  sweet  when  the  morning  dawns 

And  the  lambkins  skip  and  play ; 
And  sweet  it  is  when  the  ev'ning  sun 

Sheds  his  mellow,  soft'ning  ray. 
It  lulls  to  sleep  when  descending  dew 

Freshens  each  tiny  flower; 
And  comfort  gives  when  awakes  the  soul 

As  the  lark  proclaims  the  hour. 

Her  love  is  sweet  when  the  busy  bee 

Flies  from  flower  to  flower ; 
'And  sweet  it  is  when  the  roses  drink 
The  fresh'ning  noonday  shower. 
*3 


46  A  mother's  love. 

Its  influence  conies  when  babbling  brook 

Merrily  rolls  along ; 
And  dear  is  her  love  when  virgins  sing 

Their  heartfelt  vesper  song. 

Her  love  is  sweet  where  the  gurgling  stream 

Comes  o'er  the  crevic'd  rock ; 
And  sweet  it  is  when  home  at  eve 

The  shepherd  brings  his  flock. 
It  protecting  is  when  tempest-toss'd 

Is  the  bark  upon  the  deep; 
And  cherish'd  is  when  the  storm  is  pass'd 

And  the  wind  is  hush'd  to  sleep. 

Her  love  is  sweet  when  the  groves  around 
In  summer's  hues  are  dress'd ; 

And  sweet  it  is  when  wild  thyme  blows 
As  incense  to  the  bless'd. 


A   MOTHER^S   LOVE.  47 

It  fragrance  brings,  like  the  breeze  of  June, 
When  it  thro'  the  casement  plays  ; 

And  it  cheering  speaks  when  o'er  the  hills 
Hangs  the  blue  summer  haze. 

Her  love  is  sweet  when  the  nightingale 

Sings  at  night  in  the  brake : 
And  sweet  it  is  when  the  moonbeams  play 

Across  the  quiet  lake. 
Its  strains  are  felt  when  the  wood-pigeon  cooes 

For  its  mate  when  far  away; 
And  its  strains  are  felt  when  the  cuckoo  sings, 

And  echo  answers  its  lay. 

Her  love  is  sweet  where  the  narcissus  grows 
And  bends  in  love  to  the  stream; 

And  sweet  it  is  when  for  God  on  high 
With  love  the  soul  doth  beam. 


48  A  mother's  love. 

It  soothing  is  where  the  lilacs  grow 
"In  summer's  lustrous  eves/' 

And  its  fondness  known  when  zephyrs  blow 
And  rustle  the  willows'  leaves. 


Her  love  is  sweet  when  life  is  young 

And  the  little  heart  knows  joy; 
And  sweet  it  is  when,  white  with  age, 

Time  comes,  life  to  destroy. 
It  speaks  of  hope  when  the  heart's  alone 

And  bends  beneath  some  grief; 
And  in  its  cheering,  mellow  voice. 

Gives  words  of  sweet  relief 

Her  love  is  sweet  when  bent  in  prayer, 
Is  the  child  that  stoop'd  to  sin  ; 

And  sweet  it  is  when  gentle  care 

Makes  pure  the  heart  within. 


A    MOTHER  S   LOVE. 


49 


It  knows  no  bounds  when  sickness  comes, 
And  the  body  prostrate  lies ; 

And  how  sweet  it  is  when  leaves  the  soul 
This  earth,  for  the  far-off  skies. 


Her  love  is  sweeter  than  fragrant  morn, 

Coming  in  roseate  ray; 
And  sweeter  than  life  when  angels  call 

To  bear  the  soul  away. 
Its  odor  is  sweet  as  the  violet's 

Before  it's  plucked  to  fade, 
And  nothing  is  dearer  during  life, 

For  'tis  sunshine  in  the  shade. 

^  OF  THE 


50  TO   THE    FORGET-ME-NOT. 


TO  THE  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

Pretty,  bright  blue  flower, 

In  the  hedgerow  growing, 
With  rays  of  hope  and  love, 

Tho'  boreal  winds  are  blowing : 
Hold  thy  head  to  view. 

Charm  of  beauteous  nature. 
Believe  in  love !    't  is  true 

From  One — 'tis  thy  Creator. 


SOLITUDE. 


51 


SOLITUDE. 

Of  merry  life  and  worldly  things 

I  'm  not  content  to  sing ; 
But  O!   my  muse,  dear  solitude, 

With  all  thy  charms  shall  ring. 

I  love  along  thy  paths  to  tread 
And  converse  *neath  thy  shade 

With  all  that's  good,  that  pleasing  is 
In  woody  copse  and  glade. 

And  then  the  thousand  things  in  life 
I  think  of  when  with  thee, 

Afford  me  hope,  day  after  day, 
And  keep  my  spirit  free. 


52  SOLITUDE. 

With  thee  I  hear  the  birdies  sing 

Their  clearest,  blithest  lay. 
I  hear  the  tuneful  nightingale, 

When  fades  the  light  of  day. 

Each  blade  of  grass  a  volume  is. 
When  I  'm  alone  with  thee. 

The  wayside  flower  that  grows  obscure. 
Is  wondrous  theme  for  me. 

The  dawn  of  day,  the  rising  sun. 
Sunset,  the  dark,  dark  night. 

With  thee  has  wonders  for  my  soul. 
To  speak  of  holy  light. 

Not  'neath  the  brightest  orient  sky 
Dost  thou  most  please  the  heart. 

But  'neath  the  dark,  dark  shades  of  night. 
When  thought  thou  dost  impart. 


SOLITUDE.  53 

I  love  to  stray  alone  with  thee, 

Along  some  moss-grown  dell, 
Where  cuckoos  sing,  where  foxgloves  grow 

Blue  bells  and  pimpernel. 

Or  down  the  winding  valley  side, 
To  where  the  young  lambs  play. 

And  where  the  busy  little  bees 
Take  honey  all  the  day. 

Or  down  upon  a  stranded  shore. 
Where  an  angry  tide  doth  roll. 

And  thunders  peal,  and  lightnings  flash, 
I  find  peace  for  my  soul. 

Or  'neath  some  tow'ring  granite  cliff, 

Where  sea  gulls  build  a  nest. 
And  'gainst  which  dash  the  ocean's  waves. 

My  weary  mind  finds  rest. 


54  SOLITUDE. 

In  dark  and  dreary  rock-hewn  cave 

A  hermit  has  found  rest, 
Away  from  man,  from  vanities, 

His  walk  is  with  the  bless'd. 

He  's  stemm'd  the  tide  of  raging  fire 

That  nestles  in  each  breast ; 
His  heart,  he's  won  his  God  to  love. 

His  soul  to  be  caress'd. 

Ah !    what  is  life  ?     He  's  known  its  end. 

Thro'  trouble  he  has  pass'd. 
And  found  in  friendship  but  a  name. 

And  love  that  would  not  last. 

He's  shrunk  from  sight,  where  reptiles  creep 

He  's  laid  his  weary  head ; 
For  food,  wild  berries,  bitter  herbs, 

Of  moss  he  's  made  his  bed. 


SOLITUDE.  55 

Many  a  good  and  lowly  heart 

In  solitude  's  had  charms  ; 
And  many  a  pure  and  God-like  soul 

Therein  has  quell'd  alarms. 


56  REMEMBRANCE    OF   THEE. 


REMEMBRANCE    OF    THEE. 

Hark!   the  gentle  lark 

'Wakes  the  morning  with  its  lay  ; 
The  sun  is  breaking, 

And  I  must  away. 
'Tis  hard  thus  to  part, 

When  for  years  we've  been  friends, 

But  deep  in  my  heart 

Is  the  shaft  love  sends. 


When  far,  far  away 

From  thee  I  Ve  lov'd  so  true. 
My  heart  will   be  sad, 

My  soul  pierced  thro'. 


REMEMBRANCE   OF    THEE.  57 

Come  to  me  what  may. 

As  I  linger  far  from  thee, 
Dear  will  be  ever 
Remembrance  of  thee. 


58  .  LADY    CELESTINE. 


LADY    CELESTINE. 

The  Lady  Celestine  doth  sigh  ; 
All  alone  in  her  chamber,  high 
In  the  turret ;  the  hour  is  late, 
And  the  lattice  o'erlooks  the  outward  gate. 
No  moonbeams  solace  give  her  eyes, 
As  she  gazeth  'neath  midnight  skies. 
Upon  the  road  down  by  the  brake, 
Where,  as  each  willow  leaf  doth  shake. 
The  plaintive  song  doth  pain  her  heart. 
From  absence  of  its  counterpart. 
O,  lonely,  lonely  is  her  state, 
Without  her  heart's  united  mate. 
Who,  to  the  battle  far  away 
.  Has  gone ;   and  dismal  was  the  day 


LADY   CELESTINE.  59 

He  bade  adieu  to  fairest  maid, 
In  robes  of  early  love  array'd. 
She  tries  assuage  the  burning  fire, 
And  tries  to  draw  from  fav'rite  lyre 
Sweet  notes ;   but  no !    the  plaintive  strain 
Of  music  addeth  to  her  pain ; 
And  save  the  pictur'd  loving  smile 
Of  Herbert,  naught  can  woe  beguile. 

Where  is  my  love,  my  absent  joy, 
For  oh !    I  feel  I  soon  must  die  :,  _ 

This  aching  grief,  too  sad  to  last, 
Is  with  me  like  a  winter's  blast, 
To  render  cheerless  heart  and  soul ; 
And  oh !    I  wish  my  vision's  goal, 
For  there,  alone,  I  see  relief 
From  all  this  sorrow  and  this  grief. 

The  cheering  morning's  sun  hath  broke 
On  the  hazel  wood  beyond  the  moat ; 


6o  LADY   CELESTINE. 

And  skipping  o'er  the  verdant  lawn, 

Comes  lady  Celestine's  young  fawn, 

Bleating,  in  the  tenderest  strain. 

To  see  its  mistress  once  again. 

The  thrushes  sing  a  joyous  song; 

The  warder's  blast  blows  loud  and  strong ; 

A  horseman  gallops  o'er  the  ridge, 

Keeping  the  road  towards  the  bridge. 

Celestine  to  the  lattice  hies, 

When  no  loved  one  meets  her  eyes ; 

But  a  strange  'Squire,  wearied  and  worn. 

Enters  the  court  with  look  forlorn. 

Woe  weighs  her  beating  heart  down  low. 

When  from  a  dove  as  white  as  snow 

Sweet  music  came,  as  when  it  coo'd 

In  the  long  left  green  myrtle  wood  ; 

And  dreams  of  fairy  love-songs  sweet 

Came,  when  her  Herbert  at  her  feet 

Seem'd  to  bend,  and  with  honey'd  kiss. 


LADY   CELESTINE.  6 1 

Restore  once  more  angelic  bliss ; 
As  when  love  plum'd  in  shining  gold, 
Did  first  her  vestal  bosom  hold. 
But  no !   no !    no !    it  is  a  dream, 
Herbert  on  earth  will  ne'er  be  seen  ; 
For  the  'Squire  tells  of  wretched  sight, 
When  Herbert  in  the  bloody  fight, 
Wounded  by  a  dark  Moslem's  blow. 
Fell  nobly  for  God's  cause  below : 
Breathing  the  name  of  Celestine, 
His  fondest  love,  his  pictur'd  queen. 

Young,  dashing  knights,  from  castles  round, 

In  speech  that  has  no  mystic  sound 

For  Lady  Celestine,  hard  try 

To  brightly  light  her  tearful  eye 

With  ray  of  love ;   but  no !    love's  light 

To  her  will  never  give  delight ; 

For  dark's  the  world,  as  dismal  night. 


62  LADY   CELESTINE. 

Tho^  all  around  be  merry  and  bright, 
And  lilies  blow  upon  the  moat, 
Where  swans  majestically  float. 
No  blessed  dreams  hath  Celestine ; 
Hope  in  the  future  is  unseen : 
Altho'  the  gloaming  and  the  haze 
Are  invisible,  'fore  the  rays 
Of  cheering,  golden  noonday  sun, 
For  now  the  battle  is  begun. 
She  spoke  unto  a  captive  bird. 
Which  joyous  seem'd  to  hear  her  word. 
And  filled  soon  the  atmosphere 
With  music  of  a  brighter  sphere ; 
And  hope,  in  the  retirement  deep, 
Arose  forthwith  from  drowsy  sleep. 
But  not  to  look  on  human  bliss, 
AVith  heart's  affliction  such  as  this  ; 
And  her  loving  spirit  asked  why 
Her  Herbert  went  away  to  die. 


LADY    CELESTINE.  63 

Soft  is  her  soul,  the  hour's  serene 
That  looks  on  lovely  Celestine. 
Her  heart  is  sad,  what  heavy  load, 
When  love  therein  has  its  abode. 
Sunshine  has  no  soothing  power 
When  flow'r  's  past  the  aid  of  shower. 
She  sinks,  and  meekly  sighs  and  cries, 
Mercy !   love,  from  the  far-off  skies, 
And  with  a  mother's  parting  kiss. 
Her  hope 's  in  death  for  lasting  bliss. 
And  now  comes  seeming  inward  swoon, 
And  thro'  the  lattice  the  spirit  moon 
Shines  brightly  in  the  western  sky. 
When  Celestine  quite  audibly. 
Speaks  of  angels  round  her  bed 
Bearing  a  chaplet  for  her  head ; 
And  looks  on  friends  so  calm  and  mild, 
As  tho'  a  living  angel  smil'd. 
But  now  life  from  her  eyes  doth  fly; 


64  LADY    CELESTINE. 

She  sleeps  to  bloom  a  flow'r  on  high: 
And  angels  joy  a  soul  to  see, 
From  the  silv'ry  shrine,  virginity. 

Doleful  is  the  funeral  knell 
From  the  castle  chapel's  solemn  bell. 
As  the  procession  in  regal  state 
Moves  slowly  to  the  chancel  gate. 
Where,  beneath  a  white  marble  slab, 
Ladies  who  made  the  castle  glad, 
And  I^ords  who  foster'd  feudal  right, 
Are  mould'ring  in  the  vault,  from  sight. 
The  full  light  of  a  window  beams, 
Glist'ning  each  tear-drop  as  it  streams 
Down  the  face  of  the  organist, 
As  the  organ  peals,  his  soul  enlist; 
And  the  tenor  voice  of  young  Lewell, 
In  the  Miserere,  works  a  spell 
Upon  each  soul  that's  present  there. 


LADY   CELESTINE.  65 

For  as  from  a  spirit  in  the  air, 
With  deep  love  fill'd  for  her  that's  gone, 
The  words  "have  mercy"  fell  upon 
Each  spirit  in  the  mourning  crowd. 
As  with  pious  awe  they  lowly  bow'd 
In  trembling,  'fore  the  mystic  sign 
Of  God,  in  veil  of  bread  and  wine. 
The  slab  is  rais'd,  and  'mid  the  gloom 
Celestine  's  lower'd  to  the  tomb  j 
And  the  choristers  they  sing.  Amen, 
As  she  descends  to  dust  again. 
Sorrow  's  there,  for  'neath  funeral  pall. 
The  brightest  light  of  the  castle  hall 
Is  gone ;   and  lord  and  lady  say 
They'll  never  know  a  happy  day. 
Until  with  Celestine  they  be. 
In  realms  of  holy  ecstacy. 
The  rain  falls  fast,  and  shrill  winds  blow. 
And  sway  the  great  trees  to  and  fro, 


i 


(>6  LADY   CELESTINE. 

And  a  raven  in  the  belfry  tower, 

In  the  dark,  witching,  midnight  hour. 

Croaks,  croaks,  and  croaks  in  doleful  woe. 

As  it  ever  does  when  one  doth  go. 

Of  the  noble  house  of  Lord  Saint  Maur, 

Of  Ragland  castle,  Ragland  moor. 

The  lonely  fawn,  with  plaintive  sigh, 
Soon  broke  its  tender  heart  to  die. 
For  O  1  it  miss'd  the  fost'ring  care 
Of  her,  who  with  it  love  did  share. 
And  then  the  linnet  and  the  dove. 
Found  soon  in  death  release  from  love. 
And  after  lord  and  lady  die, 
And  those  who  to  the  tomb  did  hie, 
And  other  generation  reigns, 
Nought  but  a  marble. slab  remains 
To  tell  that  Lady  Celestine, 
Was  the  lov'd  child  of  Lord  Eugene. 


A    LEGEND    OF   THE   WESTERN   SEA.  67 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    WESTERN    SEA. 

The  sea  rolls  mountain  high,  and  steep, 

A  galleon  breasts  each  wave, 
A  raging  storm  is  o'er  the  deep, 

Threat'ning  hosts  of  furies  rave. 
In  the  north  wind,  so  bleak  and  cold, 

.  Sailors  scarce  can  keep  the  deck 
To  watch,  and  hope  the  timbers  hold. 

And  save  the  galleon  from  wreck. 
Near  to  the  land  she  fights  the  storm ; 

Sails  are  furl'd,  and  firmly  bound ; 
Pitching,  tossing,  awaiting  morn. 

When  good  fortune  may  be  found. 
From  whistling  in  the  upper  gear, 

Bending  'fore  the  raging  wind, 


6S  A    LEGEND    OF   THE    WESTERN    SEA. 

'T  would  seem  infernal  spirits  near, 

Lurk'd  and  victims  hop'd  to  find  ;   , 
But  no !    the  fates  proclaim  their  might 

To  the  cold  and  deathlike  storm, 
For  in  the  moonlight  of  the  night, 

Calm  across  the  sea  is  borne. 
And  tho'  the  waves  keep  rolling  high, 

Threatening  all  in  fear  to  keep. 
And  masts  creak  loud,  and  spar-ends  fly 

In  the  air,  now  in  the  deep  : 
There's  hope,  long  as  timbers  stand,  and 

Manly  hearts  are  not  in  dread. 
But  guide  the  craft  with  steady  hand, 

To  meet  whatever  be  ahead. 

At  last,  at  last,  bright  harmonies. 
Falls  the  rolling  of  the  sea. 

Before  a  dream-like,  steady  breeze, 
Swelling  sails,  and  three  points  free. 


mmmmum 


A   LEGEND    OF   THE   WESTERN    SEA.  69 

On,  on,  the  galleon  proceeds, 

Far  from  where  the  furies  reign'd. 
No  more  in  doubt,  from  wreck  she's  freed, 

Nothing  lost,  a  vict'ry  gain'd. 
Her  prow  cuts  thro'  the  briny  deep, 

'Neath  sunny  sky,  near  the  shore, 
And  mariners  carousal  keep. 

For  storms  past  and  troubles  o'er : 
Bravely  they  fought,  with  utmost  skill. 

To  weather  the  threat'ning  storm  \ 
So  now  what  harm  with  right  good  will 

To  merrily  welcome  morn? 
But  every  one  in  his  own  way. 

To  express  his  joy  of  heart. 
So  Juan  Crespi  spoke  a  say, 

Joyfulness,  of  noble  part : . 
In  return  for  fostering  care, 

Francisco,  list !  hear  my  say. 


70 


To  dedicate  to  Saint,  'tis  fair, 

Francisco,  we  name  some  bay. 
Francisco  outspoke  this  reply  : 

Thou'st  in  wisdom's  words  begun, 
With  heart  and  soul  then  we  will  try 

Joy  to  show,  it  shall  be  done. 
Up  spoke  an  ancient  mariner  : 

O  Padre  Francisco,  we 
Resolve  to  show  our  gratitude, 

Tho'  poor  mariners  we  be  ; 
And  near  the  bay  we'll  raise  a  shrine 

Of  bright  loveliness  to  see, 
Where  Indian  flow'rs  shall  entwine 

In  honor  of  our  Ladye. 
Right  well  thou'st  spoken  this  fair  day  : 

Angels  guide  ye  thro'  the  tide ; 
Our  hearts  in  love  for  ye  shall  pray : 

Lord  be  ever  by  ye  side. 


A    LEGEND    OF   THE    WESTERN    SEA.  7 1 

And  guide  ye  safe,  ye  mariners, 

When  ye  're  on  the  troubled  sea, 
Safe  to  the  shore,  ye  mariners, 

By  the  shrine  of  our  Ladye. 

Ye  patriot  sons,  on  tide  embark  ; 

Gentle  spirits  ;  noblest  pride  ; 
Uundaunted  ye,  with  the  cross'  mark 

"Far  dearer  than  all  beside. 
Firmest  courage  :  ye  foes  defy  ; 

Giving  coward  hearts  dismay 
To  see  warrior  spirits  die  ; 

Truest  nobleness  display. 
Ye  knights  of  light,  that  thrust  the  lance 

For  catise  of  highest  chivalry. 
Ye  all  poor  captives'  weal  enhance 

When  bowed  low  in  misery. 
The  galleon  runs  before  the  wind. 

All  the  time  along  the  shore  : 


72  A    LEGEND    OF   THE    WESTERN    SEA. 

When  joy  at  last!    the  port  they  find, 

From  which  new  land  they  would  explore; 
And  on  they  press  for  Monterey 

With  brightest  hope,  their  hearts  aglow, 
That  Providence  will  shed  His  ray, 

And  blessings  on  their  toil  bestow. 
Not  Monterey,  some  other  shore 

Seeming  circled  by  high  hills  ; 
A  dazzling  lake,  the  surface  o'er. 

The  brightest  hope  instils  ; 
For  regent  o'day  uplifts  Ris  crest, 

Invested  with  shining  rays, 
And  makes  the  glitt'ring  water's  breast 

Seem  a  sea  of  gold  ablaze. 
And  Juan  Crespi,  from  high  land. 

Saw  an  op'ning  to  the  sea. 
And  said,  upon  this  new  found  land 

The  foremost  of  our  race  are  we. 
And  when  the  golden  beach  they  trod, 


A    LEGEND   OF   THE   WESTERN    SEA.  73 

Francisco  bestow'd  the  name 
Upon  the  bay,  and  with  a  nod 

Juan  Crespi  spoke  the  same. 
Their  banner  was  rais'd,  and  out  it  spread, 

And  their  hearts  fill'd  with  dehght. 
Uprising  from  ashes  deemed  dead. 

The  same  eagle  wings  his  flight. 
And  the  mariners  came  and  rais'd  a  shrine 

To  Dolours  of  our  Ladye ; 
And  flow'rs  around  it  did  entwine, 

And  a  fair  sight  it  was  to  see. 

Now,  where  lupins  blew,  on  sand-hills'  breast, 
And  fragrance  gave  to  the  breeze, 

A  mighty  city  lifts  her  crest. 
Peopled  from  across  the  seas — 

A  right  noble  city,  first  in  fame 

'   For  commerce  and  youthful  might, 

And  to  be  queen  of  western  main 


74  A    LEGEND    OF   THE   WESTERN  •  SEA. 

She  proudly  asserts  a  right. 
Then  watch  o'er  her,  Saint  Francisco ; 

Keep  thy  homonyme  secure 
From  each  of  Volcan's  mighty  throws- 

To  time's  end  may  she  endure. 


AN   ODE.  75 


AN   ODE. 

DEDICATED   TO   H.   S.,    ESQ. 

Our  thoughts  are  of  the  ancient  land, 

Far  away  across  the  sea; 
Where  the  nightingale  in  the  silv'ry  night 

Fills  the  woods  with  melody  ;. 
Where  the  glow-worm  in  the  dewy  grass 

Lights  up  its  golden  lamp ; 
And  the  wild  rosebush  in  blossom 

Gives  its  fragrance  to  the  camp  ; 
And  rabbits  on  the  cowslip  slopes 

Crouch  low  in  dreamy  sleep; 
And  nimble-footed  fallow  deer 

Recline  where  the  willows  weep. 
And  that  is  in  the  ancient  land, 


76  AN    ODE. 

Far  away,  across  the  sea : 
Where  Hesperian  zephyrs  in  the  vale 

Rustle  the  greenwood  tree. 
And  this  is  the  land  of  the  luscious  grape, 

Where  the  rich  wine  floweth  free, 
And  bringeth  a  happy,  mellow  glow, 

As  we  drink  right  merrily ; 
And  feel  so  free,  and  feel  so  free. 

None  more  merry  than  we. 
And  we  sing  old  songs  of  the  ancient  land, 

Of  the  land  across  the  sea  : 
Songs  of  bright  youth  and  happiness, 

And  none  more  merry  than  we. 
Then  here's  to  the  land,  the  ancient  land. 

Far  away  across  the  sea ; 
Dear  's  each  spot,  and  in  country's  love 

Right  firmly  tied  are  we. 
Our  thoughts  are  of  the  ancient  land. 

Of  the  land  across  the  sea ; 


AN    ODE.  77 

Of  verdant  hills  and  tranquil  shades 

Where  we  linger'd  leisurely ; 
Of  the  cot  wherein  we  first  knew  light 

And  a  simple  daily  life  ; 
Of  a  mother's  love,  a  father's  heart, 

That  eased  each  petty  strife. 
And  how  we  dream  of  olden  things, 

No  matter  what  they  be  ; 
The  bucket  at  the  draw-well  set, 

Or  perhaps  some  toy  we  see. 
And  we  dream,  dream,  dream  of  olden  times 

In  the  land  that's  o'er  the  sea  ; 
Of  the  plank  thrown  o'er  the  gurgling  stream 

Rolling  on  merrily. 
And  in  happy  hours  we  linger'd  there, 

And  listened  to  its  theme, 
And  watch'd  the  swallows  skim  its  breast 

When  eve  began  to  gleam. 


78  AN    ODE. 

Then  here's  to  the  land,  the  ancient  land, 

Far  away  across  the  sea  : 
To  the  right  good  old  Saxon  land, 

For  of  Saxon  blood  are  we. 

Ah,  ah,  that  dear  old  Saxon  land 

Lives  in  the  memory ; 
No  matter  what  be  our  lot  in  life — 

Riches  or  poverty. 
And  now  a  description  we  will  give 

Of  a  little  village,  fair. 
Which  is  part  and  parcel  of  our  life. 

And  our  thoughts  are  often  there  : 
The  cock's  shrill  voice  announces  day 

Upon  the  wings  of  time. 
And  wood  and  copse  with  music  ring 

Beneath  the  bright  sunshine. 
In  verdure  clad  are  the  noble  trees 


AN    ODE.  79 

Rustling  in  the  balmy  air, 
For  now  is  the  month  of  May  come  in, 

And  nature  looketh  fair ; 
And  Flora  upon  the  passing  breeze 

The  sweetest  fragrance  flings, 
And,  flying  about  from  flow'r  to  flow'r, 

Butterflies  display  their  wings. 
From  the  great  elm  trees,  in  the  old  churchyard, 

The  caw  of  the  rook  is  heard ; 
And  O  !  that  is  a  welcome  sound 

From  noisy  village  bird. 
The  roses  are  blushing  with  early  dew, 

Telling  of  love  from  the  sky  ] 
And  so  are  the  herbs  that  lift  their  heads 

Beneath  the  brambles  high. 
And  in  the  vales  the  lambkins  bleat, 

And  frisk  and  skip  and  play; 
And  the  little  gracefully  winding  stream 

Goes  purling  on  alway : 


8o  AN   ODE. 

Now  thro'  braes  coursing,  now  thro'  meads 

Babbling  right  merrily  ; 
And  now  thro'  a  cultivated  spot — 

A  charming  sight  to  see ; 
For  sweet  lilies  blow  and  roses  bloom, 

And  the  sweet-briar  trees. 
With  honeysuckles  and  lilacs  grow, 

And  fragrance  give  the  breeze. 
'T  was  by  that  stream  when  we  were  lads 

We  used,  with  hearts'  delight, 
To  softly  steal  with  staff  and  wire 

To  catch  the  wary  pike ; 
And  where  we  used,  with  stockings  oft, 

To  spatter  and  to  play, 
And  take  bulrushes,  forget-me-nots, 

When  't  was  a  holiday. 
And  now  is  the  welcome  Maying  day, 

When  tott'ring  age  is  young, 


And  festivities  are  now  begun 

By  the  joyous  village  throng 
As  some  young  swain  with  thrilling  glee, 

Upon  the  village  green, 
Leads  off  the  merry  rustic  dance 

With  the  blushing  young  May-Queen. 
And  young  lovers  'round  the  Maying  pole 

Sing  and  dance  with  glee, 
And  their  merry  voices  o'er  the  hills 

Ring  again  with  melody. 
And  the  sound  comes  o'er  the  bright  green  lanes 

As  tho'  on  zephyr's  wing 
Pan  rode,  and  from  a  green  reed  pipe 

The  tuneful  notes  did  ring. 
Look,  now,  on  the  herd  of  bleating  kine — 

A  pleasant  sight  to  view — 
Returning  home  as  sinks  the  sun. 

Their  wont  the  summer  thro'. 


82  AN    ODE. 

And  listen  now  to  the  old  church  bell, 

Tolling  the  ev'ning  hour  ; 
And  see  the  gloaming  o'er  the  hills, 

The  closed  lily  flower. 
The  farm-yard  fowls  are  gone  to  roost 

High  in  the  old  oak  tree ; 
The  lab'rer  wends  his  weary  way 

To  his  heart's  pure  canopy; 
His  cheerful  home  of  peasant  life. 

Happier  than  the  halls, 
Illum'd  with  frescoes,  works  of  art, 

And  gold-gilt  on  the  walls. 
But  now  we  near  the  tottering  pile 

Where  the  yew  trees  bend. 
The  ivy-clad  old  Gothic  church 

Where  to  God  we  used  to  send 
Our  simple  prayers  in  childhood's  days, 

Free  from  a  sinful  thought. 


AN    ODE.  83 

And  listen  to  the  Rector's  voice 

Urging  us  do  as  we  ought. 
And  there  we  look  on  the  same  sun-dial 

That  told  of  passing  hours 
In  that  good  old  merry,  merry  time, 

When  youthful  years  were  ours. 
And  now  we  stumble  near  to  a  grave. 

And  sad  at  heart  are  we  ; 
For  Oh !  't  is  a  tender  mother's  grave, 

A  loving  mother,  she. 
And  in  her  own  she'd  take  our  hands, 

And  trudge  a  long,  long  way. 
Unto  this  dear  old  Gothic  church. 

And  sweet  were  the  words  she'd  say. 
Oh,  say  not  manliness  is  gone 

When  heartfelt  tears  will  flow 
Adown  the  noblest,  manliest  face, 

At  such  a  sign  of  woe. 


84  •  AN    ODE. 

But  Oh,  say  the  truest  manliness 

Is  by  such  act  displayed  j 
For  Oh,  'tis  but  an  honest  man 

Who  has  such  love  obey'd. 
Come,  take  courage,  courage  by  this  tale. 

Told  by  the  churchyard  sod. 
And  prosper,  fearing  not  to  fail — 

Above,  there  is  a  God 
That  watches  o'er  each  one  of  us, 

No  matter  who  we  be  ; 
No  matter  where,  upon  this  earth, 

If  honest  men  are  we. 
Then  adieu  !  to  that  old  Saxon  land, 

Away  across  the  sea  ; 
To  that  much  lov'd    old  Saxon  land, 

For  of  Saxon  blood  are  we. 


AMONG   THE   LILIES.  §5 


AMONG    THE    LILIES. 

She  sleeps  !   sweet  sleep !   down  among  the  lilies, 

AVhere  she  often  strayed  in  summer  hours 

Of  life,  to  view  the  consecrated  sod^ 

Sheltered  by  the  branches  of  the  yew ; 

And  when  her  soul  stood  spell-bound  before  thought. 

The  companion  of  silence  that  reign'd  around, 

And  pictures  of  an  elysian  sphere 

Came  'fore  her  gentle  spirit,  then  she  prayed 

That  she  might  sleep  among  the  royal  flowers. 


She  sleeps !   sweet  sleep  !   down  among  the  lilies. 
As  pure,  she  sleeps  in  peace.     Brief  was  the  time 
She  passed  on  this  transitory  stage. 


(UNIVERSITY, 


^ 


S6  AMONG   THE    LILIES. 


She  sleeps  !   sweet  sleep  !   down  among  the  lilies. 

The  voice  we  knew  is  gone  ;  she  sleeps  !  sweet  sleep ! 

The  smile  she  wore  is  gone ;  she  sleeps !  sweet  sleep ! 

The  vesper  bell  proclaims  the  time  of  prayer ; 

Chaste  virgins  bend  before  religion's  shrines, 

And  still  she  sleeps,  down  among  the  lilies. 

The  pet  dove  pines  and  coos,  and  still  she  sleeps. 

Mystery,  that  maketh  angels  of  the  good, 

In  thy  embrace  she  sleeps,  among  the  lilies. 

Then  why  should  sadness  live  within  the  soul  ? 

Why  should  the  heart  to  weary  sorrow  bend? 

Why  should  the  night,  when  glow-worms  light  the  gloom 

Be  passed  o'er  in  dismal  sighs  and  tears? 

And  when  brightly  the  vigil  star  doth  shine, 

And  whisper  of  the  flower  that  fadeth  not. 


She  sleeps  !   sweet  sleep  !   down  among  the  lilies, 
And  the  soft  zephyr  plays  the  fragrant  bells, 


AMONG  THE   LILIES.   .  87 

And  the  little  bee  buzzes  round  the  flowers. 

The  robin  chirps,  and  rests  upon  the  stone 

Which  bears  the  name  of  her  that  sleeps,  that  sleep 

To  which  we  all  descend.      She  sleeps  !   sweet  sleep  ! 

And  nought  remains  but  that  stone's  epitaph 

To  tell  that  she  who  sleeps  was  pure  and  good, 

Except  the  void  within  the  hearts  that  linger 

Upon  the  journey,  to  the  shore  far  off. 

Where  will  be  met  those  who  already  sleep 

The  sleep  of  peace,  down  among  the  lilies. 


CONTENT. 


CONTENT. 

A  gurgling  rill,  with  mangroves  bending  o'er  ; 
A  mossy  glade,  a  bright  and  tranquil  shore. 
Where,  'neath  the  stately  palm  trees'  shade,  I'd  lay 
In  sweet  repose  and  chase  dull  thoughts  away; — 
But  no  !   when  there,  alas  !   still  on  to  press 
Would  be  my  aim,  for  time  would  bring  distress. 
To  be  familiar,  is  oft  to  cherish  not 
Pleasure,  friendship,  riches,  whate'er  our  lot. 
Something  attain'd,  still  wishing,  on  we  press 
Towards  some  other  object,  life  to  bless. 
In  vain  we  journey  on,  and  seek  to  find 
In  art  or  science,  lasting  peace  of  mind. 

A  cup  of  water  —  Oh  !    I  ask  no  more  ; 
Save  me  !    I  would  not  die  upon  this  shore ; 


CONTENT.  89 

Bleak  and  unfriendly  tho'  it  be  to  me, 

I'd  wish  to  live,  from  death's  cold  hand  be  free. 

Aid  me  to  live  :   I  then  content  shall  gain  — 

Nought  else  on  earth  shall  e'er  my  steps  detain. 

Ah  !   Ah !   sweet  life  is  by  my  wish  decreed, 

I  journey  on,  from  struggling  trouble  freed, 

And  know  the  ease  the  gold  of  life  will  bring, 

Yet  discontent  doth  ever  show  its  sting. 

Even  tho'  we  live  in  hope's  fair  domain. 

And  tho'  our  lot  be  cast  in  earth's  bright  train. 

Life  knows  not  peace ;   a  something  comes  to  mar 

The  cherish'd  pleasures,  and  keep  us  far 

From  contentment,  which  oft  is  found  enshrin'd 

In  peasant's  heart,  to  humble  fate  resign'd. 

Gold  ne'er  can  buy  content,  nor  bring  repose. 

Nor  give  sweet  herbs  to  soothe  our  painful  woes; 

By  love  alone  can  sweet  content  be  found 

To  bear  us  treasures,  scatter  myrtles  round. 


90  THE   DYING   SWAN. 


THE    DYING    SWAN. 

The  mountain's  peak  is  hid  in  gloom, 

And  all  is  peaceful  there; 
'Tis  early  morn,  and  hawthorn  bloom 

Gives  fragrance  to  the  air, 
And  scattered  o'er  the  mountain's  breast, 
In  groups  the  flocks  and  herds  take  rest. 

The  flowers  bend  with  crystal  dew, 

And  dew-white  is  the  grass. 
And  by  these  charms  so  dear -to  view, 

Spring  tells  of  time  we  pass, 
And  blithely  purling  thro'  the  dale, 
A  stream  keeps  up  the  wooing  tale. 


THE   DYING   SWAN.  9 1 

Tho'  peep  of  day,  and  yet  a  star 

Shines  from  the-  eastern  sky 
Upon  the  stream,  'way  from  afar 

A  snow-white  swan  sails  by. 
And  harigs  its  head  upon  its  breast, 
As  tho'  't  were  also  seeking  rest. 

But  see,  it  bends  its  neck  again 

In  graceful,  stately  curve, 
And  bears  its  head  as  tho'  'twould  fain 

Time  still  should  be  to  serve  ; — 
But  hear  that  cry :  it  is  the  last. 
Telling  of  springs  and  summers  past. 

Right  plaintive  is  that  yielding  cry. 

As  low  its  head  doth  bow ; 
And  O  !    't  is  sweet  to  hear  that  cry, 

It  seems  a  dying  vow 


92  THE   DYING   SWAN. 

Upon  the  soft  wind  borne  away, 
As  breaks  the  orb  of  coming  day. 

The  verdant  willows  seem  to  weep, 
The  sege  and  rushes  sigh. 

Yet  the  clear  crystal  stream  so  deep 
Deigns  not,  a  wherefore,  ^hy? 

But  purls  along,  despite  the  cry, 

And  leaves  the  snow-white  swan  to  die. 


IN   MEMORIAM.  93 


IN    MEMORIAM. 

I  wandered  far  away 

And  a  mother  left  behind : 
A  fonder,  better  mother 

A  child  could  never  find. 
I  kiss'd  her  lips  and  parted  : 

I  shall  ne'er  forget  her  sigh, 
As  she  sunk,  broken  hearted. 

To  part  with  me,  her  joy. 

When  I  tore  myself  away, 
Oh!   I  felt  that  I  should  die, 

For  I  knew  all  pleasure's  false, 
My  very  soul  did  sigh. 


*s 


94  IN    MEMORIAM. 

I  gaz'd  back  on  the  window 
And  I  caught  my  mother's  eye  : 

I  shall  ne'er  forget  her  look 
Until  the  day  I  die. 

Around  the  cottage  window 

The  most  fair  of  roses  grew : 
In  the  midst  of  them  her  face 

Shone  forth  in  brighter  hue, 
And  on  my  afflicted  soul 

It  quickly  became  engrav'd, 
And  I  see  it  when  with  sorrow 

My  heart  is  sore  enslav'd. 

A  wreath  of  great  woe  and  joy 
Came  borne  on  the  wings  of  time  : 

Angels  took  her  soul  away, 
She  came  and  spoke  to  mine. 


IN   MEMORIAM.  95 

Ah !   my  soul  was  sorely  struck, 
A  sword  had  pierced  my  breast, 

But  footprints  she  had  left  me, 
To  ease  and  give  me  rest 

She  was  my  earliest  love. 

And  she  taught  my  heart  to  pray; 
She  spoke  to  me  of  flowers 

That  bloomed  by  the  way; 
She  spoke  of  lilies,  roses. 

And  other  flowers  as  fair. 
Of  mother's  love  eternal. 

With  which  none  can  compare. 


96  A   TRUE    HEART. 


A    TRUE    HEART. 

When  away,  far  away 

From  her  who  ever  lov'd  thee, 
Whatever  be  thy  future, 

She  never  can  forget; 
And  when  the  prayer-time  comes, 

In  the  morning  and  the  evening, 
She'll  call  upon  her  Maker 

Thee  ever  to  protect. 

Tho'  away,  far  away, 

At  all  times  thou'lt  be  with  her. 
And  thy  well  known  shadow'U  beam 

In  the  chamber  at  eve ; 


A   TRUE   HEART.  97 

And  befall  thee  whatever  may 

Upon  life's  troubled  ocean, 
'T  is  the  fond  heart  of  a  mother, 

Which  never  can  deceive. 


gS  THE   LAY   OF   A   WEARY    HEART. 


THE  LAY  OF  A  WEARY  HEART. 

The  winter  is  dismal  and  cold, 

My  heart  in  its  loneliness  sad ; 
My  body  is  weary  and  old, 

Gone  are  the  friends  that  made  me  glad. 
I  look  out  on  the  stream  with  hope, 

And  wish  that  the  boatman  were  near 
With  his  muffled  oar  and  his  boat, 

To  bear  me  to  happier  sphere. 

The  world's  no  attraction  for  me. 
Ambition's  a  thing  of  the  past ; 

Each  heart's  ever  cold  unto  me ; 
I  wish  for  the  love  that  will  last. 


THE  LAY  OF  A  WEARY  HEART.  99 

I  was  once  full  of  youth  and  glee, 

And  now  I  am  weary  and  old ; 
Death  alone  has  its  charms  for  me, 

And  I  wish  that  my  tale  were  told. 

I  have  clothed  my  soul  in  her  best, 

I  have  sorrow  for  every  sin, 
I  anxiously  wait  with  the  bless'd 

For  the  joys  of  home  to  begin. 
-God's  love  consoleth  my  sorrow. 

Now  that  I  am  weary  and  worn ; 
My  heart's  full  of  hope  for  the  morrow. 

When  my  soul  will  depart  for  the  bourne. 

Weave  me  a  chaplet  of  flowers 

For  my  grave  when  I  sleep  in  peace ; 

Weave  it  of  those  border  flowers, 
The  bright  flowers  of  Marguerite. 


THE   LAY   OF   A   WEARY   HEART. 

Weave  the  chaplet  quickly  I  pray, 
For  the  night  is  fast  coming  on; 

Angels'  footsteps  are  coming  this  way, 
And  my  day  will  be  past  ^nd  gone. 

I  shall  soon  be  far  from  the  stage, 

And  removed  from  those  I've  long  known  ; 
Fierce  winter  comes  on  like  old  age. 

For  the  swallows  away  have  flown. 
Stars  of  heaven  will  still  shine  on. 

And  flowers  of  the  field  still  bloom. 
When  I,  child  of  time,  shall  be  gone 

Unto  my  dreary,  earthly  tomb. 

Place  the  chaplet  near  to  my  bed, 
I'd  look  on  the  pearls  'mong  flowers  ; 

An  angel's  hand  rests  on  my  head — 
Adieu  !  adieu !  to  the  flowers. 


THE   LAY   OF   A   WEARY    HEART. 

Fast  Other  forms  clothed  in  white 
Are  taking  the  places  of  friends ; 

My  soul  is  awaking  to  light, 

To  God  and  His  love  she  ascends. 

The  journey  is  done,  life  is  o'er. 

The  last  rose  of  summer  has  blown ; 
The  soul  that  was  bound  to  the  shore, 

Unto  happier  spheres  has  flown. 
The  chaplet  goes  too,  to  the  grave. 

Emblematic  of  life  are  the  flowers  ; 
They  fade,  and  no  power  can  save, 

A  mystery  is  life,  and  flowers. 


I02  LINES   ON   THE   DEATH   OF   A   LADY. 


LINES   ON  THE   DEATH   OF   A   LADY. 

The  whine  of  a  hound  doth  fall, 

And  forebode  ill 
To  the  inmates  o'  the  hall 

When  night  is  still. 
The  lord  of  the  house  has  grief, 
Angels  can  give  relief; 
The  life  of  one  is  brief, 
-  It  is  God's  will. 

The  tall  trees  rock  and  sigh, 

A  storm  goes  by, 
Clouds  gather  in  the  sky : 

They  say  she'll  die. 


LINES   ON   THE   DEATH   OF   A   LADY.  I03 

The  willows  plaintive  cry, 
The  birds  sing  mournfully, 
Altho'  a  soul  will  fly 
To  God  on  high. 

A  fair  lady  goes  to-day 

To  the  cold  tomb  : 
Oh  !   'tis  a  sad,  sad  lay, 

Of  such  deep  gloom  : 
Orphans  are  left  behind. 
Their  wails  're  borne  on  the  wind  ; 
A  strong  man  weeps,  to  find 

Her  gone  so  soon. 

In  gloom  's  the  stately  hall. 

Its  bright  light  gone  : 
Hardly  does  footstep  fall 

Where  her  love  shone. 


I04  LINES    ON   THE    DEATH    OF   A    LADY. 

Sad  is  each  inmate  there, 
For  her  who  was  so  dear, 
And  heartfelt  is  each  tear : 
A  pure  soul  gone. 

A  Talbot's,  Howard's  name 

This  lady  bore. 
Known  on  the  scroll  of  fame 

The  wide  world  o'er. 
•     And  she  of  noble  race. 

E'er  fill'd  with  sweetest  grace 
A  goodly  Christian's  place, 

With  God's  own  poor. 

Deep  sorrow  's  in  each  heart 

Both  far  and  near  : 
It  is  hard  thus  to  part 

With  one  so  dear. 


LINES   ON    THE   DEATH   OF   A   LADY.  I05 

Light  of  each  lowly  home, 
Hear  how  they  sob,  and  moan 
The  loss  of  her,  gone  home 
To  Him  so  dear. 

As  friend,  as  mother,  wife, 

Her  love  will  live ; 
Holy  was  her  short  life  : 

Tho'  dead  she'll  live 
With  husband,  poor,  each  child. 
That  saintly  love  so  mild, 
AVhich  on  them  ever  smiFd, 

Will  always  live.  ^ 

Flower  of  this  earth  she, 

Fragrant  and  rare, 
Gone  in  her  bloom  to  be 

Flower  more  fair. 


Io6  LINES   ON   THE   DEATH    OF   A    LADY. 

Borne  in  an  angel's  breast, 
Unto  the  realms  of  rest, 
To  bloom  with  flowers  bless'd. 
Love's  wreath  to  wear. 


THE   LOST   FLOWER.  I07 


THE    LOST    FLOWER. 

Have  ye  seen  my  flower  that  is  gone, 
My  once  fragrant  and  spotless  flower, 

Which  bloomed  the  admired  of  all 

'Neath  the  shades  of  this  sylvan  bower  ? 

My  flower  I  loved  :   it  was  fair. 

It  was  always  the  pride  of  my  heart ; 

But  nought  is  for  me  now  but  despair, 
Since  my  flower  and  I  are  apart. 

Twas  the  gem  'mid  the  fairest  of  flowers, 
And  to  me  it  was  ever  so  dear. 

I  am  sad,  for  I've  wearisome  hours 

To  pass  o'er  with  my  sighs  and  my  tears. 


Io8  ~  THE   LOST   FLOWER. 

Could  that  flower  e'er  be  mine  again, 

I  should  quickly  have  sweet  peace  of  mind. 

Could  wealth  bring  back  what  has  been  ta'en, 
I  would  give  it,  my  flower  to  find. 

But,  alas  for  me !   hope  I  have  none 
To  regain  my  lost  flower  once  more  : 

And  the  end  would  be  welcome  to  come. 
For  I'm  weary  and  wish  for  the  shore. 


A   TALE.  109 


A    TALE. 

The  ev'ning  shades  were  falling  fast: 
I  stood  beside  a  linden  tree, 
And  wish'd  the  day  could  be  my  last, 
If  from  remorse  I  could  be  free. 
Ah  !   sad  is  life  when  conscience  stings, 
And  wafts  a  tempest  o'er  the  brain ; 
The  heart  is  bursting ;  terror  rings 
In  leaf,  in  footstep  o'er  the  plain. 
As  flies  the  hart  before  the  foe. 
The  weary  seeks  release  from  woe. 
I  walk'd  a  path  where  flowers  grew. 
Where  all  was  brightness,  all  was  joy. 
Where  mildest  zephyrs  ever  blew 
To  fan  the  cheek,  to  ease  each  sigh. 


/ 


no  A   TALE. 

I  knew  of  life,  I  knew  of  wrong, 
Of  all  my  tutor'd  mind  could  speak. 
Alas  !    the  tempter  came  and  stung, 
And  left  remorse,  with  no  relief. 

With  charms  he  won  my  soul  to  stray 
Down  dreary  paths,  obscure  from  day. 
I  laid  me  on  a  couch  of  down, 
Pleasures  my  fortune  could  obey. 
Alive  to  virtue,  but  yet  I  'd  frown 
At  religion's  charm.     I  'd  lost  .its  sway : 
The  tempter  came  ;   I  knew  not  peace ; 
The  modest  fear  I  knew  had  past : 
I  rous'd  me  up,   and  sought  release : 
The  chains  were  l3roke  that  bound  me  fast. 
In  luxury  my  lot  is  cast, 
But  innocence  is  in  the  past. 
I  remember  when  a  child  of  grace 
How  good  I  was,  how  loving,  too. 


A   TALE. 

When  I'd  look  on  that  mother's  face 
Who  gave  my  heart  the  love  it  knew. 
I  then  had  wishes  —  who  has  not  ^ 
To  be  an  angel  —  childish  thought ; 
Look  back,  and  ye  have  not  forgot, 
This  self-same  station  ye  have  sought. 

If  ye  were  in  religion's  way 

Brought  up,  from  childhood's  early  day. 
O,  would  I  had  my  mother  near, 
To  speak  to  me  as  she  would  speak. 
To  ease  my  heart,  to  wipe  the  tear 
That  often  trickles  down  my  cheek 
When  J  look  back  upon  the  past. 
And  see  my  home  in  peaceful  dell, 
And  see  the  little  village  church. 
Where,  on  my  little  knees,  I  fell. 

And  pray'd  with  heart  and  soul  sincere. 

For  suff 'ring  people  far  and  near. 


112  A   TALE. 

Ah  !    I  remember,  and  'tis  sweet 
To  think  upon  the  time  gone  by  : 
To  think  of  those  whom  I  shall  meet, 
Tho'  doom'd  for  time  on  earth  to  sigh. 
.^^;        For  yes  !   there's  hope  ;   the  flowers  meek 
Proclaim  to  me  another  spring. 
And  late  and  early  thus  I  seek 
To  send  my  love  on  angel's  wing ; 
'And  for  the  past  I  now  atone. 
And  bear  all  ills  for  spring  alone. 
Oh  !   for  those  days  gone  to  the  tomb. 
To  which  my  fancy  oft  doth  tend. 
And  see  a  child  from  out  this  gloom,  • 
Without  the  mask  the  world  doth  lend ; 
I  see  a  child  in  virgin's  robe 
Approach  •  the  cup,  partake  its  food  ; 
I  see  where  grace  has  its  abode. 
Where  dwells  that  innocence  so  good  : 


A   TALE.  1 13 


Sweet  are  the  waters  that  e'er  flow, 
Drink,  and  know  their  worth  below. 
I  see  a  little  village  spire 
Towering  o'er  the  woodland  round  : 
It  gives  my  heart  a  cheer,  as  higher 
My  soul  doth  soar,  where  lost  are  found  ; 
I  see  the  graves,  the  grass  is  green 
Where  forefathers  o'  the  village  sleep  ; 
I  see  her  grave — she  once  was  Queen 
Of  May  —  my  sister  !     How  I  weep. 
As  now  I  see  a  mother's  grave, 
And  hope  for  mercy,  tho'  I  've  stray'd, 


m 


114  ADIEU. 


ADIEU. 

Adieu  !   O,  what  a  word  : 
Is  it  real?     Is  the  parting 
To  meet  again  ?    Yes  !   't  must  be, 

When  love  is  everlasting. 

Adieu !   dry  up  those  tears, 
Cheer  up  from  sadness  — 
A  pierced  heart,  such  is  life, 

But  hope,  love,  for  gladness. 

Adieu  !   come  storm  or  calm 
Across  life's  great  ocean. 
Love  that's  pure  will  ever  ride 

Unchanged  by  the  motion. 


TO   A   LOVED   ONE.  II5 


TO    A    LOVED    ONE. 

I  THINK  of  thee  when  morning  dawns, 
When  fades  the  light  of  day, 

I  dream  of  thee  in  the  lonely  night, 
Thy  heart  is  e'er  my  stay. 

Thy  angel's  face  is  ever  near. 

To  speak  of  hope  to  me, 
I  often  sigh  and  drop  a  tear 

From  ardent  love  for  thee. 

To  think  of  thee  's  the  only  joy 

Upon  this  earth  for  me  : 
Thy  loving  face,  thy  simple  smile. 

Will  always  live  with  me. 


Il6  TO   A    LOVED    ONE. 

No  tongue  can  speak  the  pow'r  of  love 
When  heart  to  heart  has  spoke; 

No  pen  can  write,  no  words  can  tell 
The  joys,  the  woes  awoke. 

The  heart  that's  lov'd  is  ne'er  forgot 
Tho'  time  and  fates  invade, 

Tho'  fortune  change,  and  seas  us  part, 
Tho'  all  is  gloom  and  shade. 


AT   PARTING.  ll^ 


AT    PARTING. 

O  YES  !   I'll  e'er  remember  thee 
As  long  as  time  shall  be  with  me ; 
I'll  see  thy  face  in  ev'ry  flow'r, 
And  pray  for  thee  at  ev'ning  hour. 

And  when  in  slumber  I  am  laid, 
For  thee  I  ne'er  shall  be  afraid, 
For  there  is  One  who  guardeth  thee. 
And  keepeth  thee  from  dangers  free. 

When  sheds  the  sun  his  brilliant  light, 
And  all  around 's  supernal  bright, 
I'll  give  thee  thought  tho'  far  away. 
And  give  a  thought  to  bygone  day. 

f       ^^        OP  THE  ^ 

(TJNIVERSlTTj 


Il8  AT   PARTING. 

AVhen  light  is  gone  to  other  shore 
I'll  think  of  thee,  thy  own  sweet  lore, 
And  cherish  thee  in  fervent  heart, 
'Till  from  this  life,  and  thee,  I  part. 


THE   LAST   LILY.  II9 


THE    LAST    LILY. 

The  bright  days  of  summer  are  past, 
And  my  sisters  are  gone  to  the  tomb, 

The  sharp  frost  of  winter  is  come. 
And  with  it  a  sorrowful  gloom. 

I  have  bloom'd  the  admir'd  of  all, 
And  fragrance  IVe  cast  on  the  air. 

But  now  nipping  frost  comes  to  wither 
My  charms  and  my  beauty  so  rare. 

Royal  flower  I  am  :   I  was  fair. 

And  the  pride  of  the  landscape  was  I  ; 

Now  my  leaves  are  all  drooping  to  fade. 
And  meekly  I  bow  me  to  die. 


I20  THE    LAST   LILY. 

Yesterday  I  was  comely  to  see, 

The  brightest  and  blithest  of  flow'rs  : 

But  ah  !  now  I'm  cast  down,  poor  me, 
Past  revival  from  sunshine  and  show'rs. 

I  am  weak,  and  I'm  fast  fading  out. 
My  life's  taper  's  declining  from,  sight ; 

Is  it  true  ?  can  it  be  that  I'm  going 
From  those  whom  I  used  to  delight? 


TREASURED   THOUGHTS. 


TREASURED    THOUGHTS. 

Dear  is  the  hand, 
And  dear  the  heart 
Of  her,  tho'  far  away, 
And  dearer  still  when  the  echo  falls 
Of  the  heart's  sad,  sad  lay. 

Dear  is  the  smile. 
And  dear  the  face 
Of  her  I  lov'd  full  soon. 
And  dearer  still,  when  the  glow-worm's  lamp 
Lights  up  the  ev'ning  gloom. 

Dear  is  the  touch. 
And  dear  the  voice 


TREASURED    THOUGHTS. 

Of  her  who  strung  the  lyre,    . 
And  dearer  still,  when  the  full  pale  moon 
Reflects  the  orb  of  fire. 

Dear  is  my  love, 
And  dear  my  thoughts. 
Such  that  no  tongue  can  tell. 
And  dearer  still,  when  evening  sheds 
Its  ray  across  the  dell. 

Dear  is  the  path, 
And  dear  the  fields 
O'er  which  we  ofttimes  stray'd, 
And  dearer  still  when  thoughts  come  o'er 
My  soul,  when  peace  is  made. 

Dear  is  the  night. 
And  dear  the  day, 


TREASURED    THOUGHTS.     -  1 23 

Tho'  from  her  I  did  fly, 
And  dearer  still  when  faith  tells  me 
I  shall  meet  her,  by  and  by. 


124  LAYS    OF   GREECE. 


LAYS   OF  GREECE. 

MYTILENE. 

Calm  is  the  air;  and  the  vestal  moon 

Glitters  like  a  diamond  stream 
Upon  the  glassy  sea  of  splendor 

Where  is  the  Isle  of  Mytilene. 
Isle  of  song-birds ;  isle  of  roses  ; 

Isle  of  the  myrtle,  ever  green ; 
Isle  of  Flora's  sweetest  posies ; 

Isle  where  richest  fruits  are  seen. 
In  thy  woodland,  lays  of  Philomel 

Ravish  and  entrance  the  heart; 
Life  is  weary ;  senses  slumber  ; 

Would  the  spirit  could  depart 


LAYS   OF   GREECE.  1 25 

Unto  those  scenes,  where  bliss  is  lasting; 

Where  the  sacred  altars  gleam 
Rays  of  light,  that  seem  gold  blazing ; 

Where  innocence  and  virtue  beam. 
Where  lays  of  Philomel  are  surpassed. 

And  the  sweetest  music's  swell 
Is  heard  for  ever  and  for  ever ; 

Where 's  unknown  the  word  Farewell ! 
Isle  of  Mytilene :  flower-spangl'd. 

Where  cooling  streams  of  water  flow ; 
Isle  of  Mytilene  :  laurel  girdl'd, 

O'er  which  softest  zephyrs  blow. 
Isle  of  Mytilene  :  flower-spangl'd  ; 

Fresh  from  streams  of  morning  dew  :  - 
Blooming  roses  ;  clust'ring  roses — 

Philomel's  pride — bright  scenes  renew. 
And  veil  from  o'er  the  mind  is  lifted ; 

Reason  breaks  the  binding  chain 


126  LAYS   OF   GREECE. 

That  weigh'd  it  down  to  gloom  and  darkness, 

Joyfulness  is  come  again. 
Isle  of  Mytilene :  flower-spangl'd, 

In  thy  grottoes,  sweet  repose ;  . 
In  thy  woodland,  happy  moments, 

There  a  freshening  fountain  flows. 

PARIS. 

The  head  of  Priam's  son  is  drooping 

As  his  bark  glides  o'er  the  sea; 
A  burning,  harrowing  pain  is  reigning — 

His  heart  has  lost  its  ecstasy. 
For  the  star — of  light  self-giving — 

That  rays  diffused  in  his  breast, 
Is  far  away  across  the  water  : 

Whence  his  spirit  seeketh  rest 
From  flashing  gloom,  and  dark  forebodings 

That  the  vow  unto  gods  spoke 


LAYS   OF   GREECE.      ( TJ  N  I V  E  ^^I  TV 


Will,  'fore  burning  passions  struggle, 

And  alas  !  it  may  be  broke. 
A  "blazing  torch,"  a  weakly  mortal 

To  the  soft'ning  power  of  love  : 
He  fell — as  old  man  in  his  dotage — 

And  but  power  from  above 
Could  from  evil  thoughts  release  him. 

Allay  the  burning  of  the  heart. 
And  save  him  from  the  direful  curses 
Inflicted  by  foul  passion's  dart. 

O  list!    unstudied  words  're  flowing 

From  a  queen,  upon  whose  brow 
Beauty  reigns,  and  'fore  eyes  glowing, 

Priam's  son  is  conquer'd  now. 
And  CEnone — pure  and  lovely, 

Who  to  Paris  gave  delight — 
Is  cruelly  ignor'd,  deserted, 

Now  she  is  away  from  sight. 


128  LAYS    OF    GREECE. 

Helen,  wife  of  Menelaus, 

With  the  recreant  Paris  flies  ; 
But  from  lust's  demoniac  passion 

Stinging  vipers  quickly  rise, 
And  nestle  in  the  breast  once  faithful 

Unto  (Enone,  its  bride : 
Devouring  peace  and  staying  slumber, 

Harrowing  memory  beside. 

Then  Paris  sheathe  thy  sword,  blood-stained; 

Let  it  lie  until  it  rust; 
Thy  ills  to  hearts  have  brought  destruction  ; 

Hosts  are  trampled  in  the  dust. 
And  eyes  that  were  with  pure  love  glowing ; 

Lips  that  utter'd  love's  o'erflow  ; 
Hands  that  trembled  as  they  touched 

Others  lov'd,  are  now  laid  low. 
Carnage  of  hearts  is  perpetrated 

For  thy  lustful  passions'  fame ; 


LAYS    OF   GREECE.  1 29 

Then  hang  thy  head  for  hearts'  strings  broken, 
Sob  and  weep  for  very  shame. 

But  soon  the  wanton's  beauty  fadeth, 

She  for  Paris  hath  no  charm; 
The  cank'ring  worm  that  gnaw'd  his  vitals 

Arous'd  his  blood  to  shame's  alarm  ; 
And  poor  GEnone,  so  forgiving, 

Comes  at  last  to  soothe  his  brow 
With  odors  from  the  mountain  Ida; 

But  too  late — he's  fallen  now. 
For  Graecia's  sons  are  rous'd  in  battle; 

And  their  clashing  weapons  glare. 
As  on  they  rush  and  slay  the  Trojans, 

Whose  cries  for  mercy  rend  the  air. 

Troilus  killed  in  the  warfare. 
Words  of  the  oracles  were  true  : 


130  LAYS    OF    GREECE. 

Troas,  the  mighty,  is  defeated, 
Trojans  weep  the  country  thro'. 

Victory  !  the  wrong 's  avenged  ; 
Sons  of  Greece  return  to  share 

The  laurels  of  their  noble  conquest, 
And  cries  of  triumph  rend  the  air. 

GR^CIA. 

An  eagle  from  its  nest  arising 

Leaves  its  young  in  sweet  repose, 
And  soars  above  the  mountain's  summit. 

Proudly  vaunting,  daring  foes. 
Till  lured  on  to  bloody  battle 

It  skims  the  air  with  stately  flight. 
And  falls  before  a  foe,  defeated — 

Dreadful  change,  a  woful  sight. 
The  strains  of  music  from  the  eagless 

Cease  to  make  love's  current  flow  : 


LAYS   OF   GREECE.  131 

For  nought  is  heard  but  painful  discord, 

With  fire  the  eye  has  ceas'd  to  glow ; 
And  when  at  last,  now  freed  from  bondage. 

Trembling,  it  is  fill'd  with  dread ; 
For  hope  is  gone,  its  life  is  blighted ; 

And,  alas !  its  valor  's  dead. 
O,  Graecia !  once  noble,  mighty ! 

The  shepherd  with  his  pipes  hath  fled ; 
Fawns  no  longer  by  thy  waters ; 

The  chieftain  low  hath  bow'd  his  head. 
Thy  ancient  clashing  sword  of  battle ; 

Coat  of  mail,  and  pond'rous  shield ; 
Thy  chieftains  fill'd  with  greatest  valor  ; 

But  in  name  are  now  reveal'd. 
And  children  weep  upon  thy  bosom ; 

Fill'd  with  woe,  they  thee  admire ; 
O,  Graecia !  of  fame  extended. 

Love  for  thee  their  hearts  inspire. 


132  MARIANNE. 


MARIANNE. 

In  coming  up  the  stream  to-night, 
When  moonbeams  will  be  glitt'ring  bright, 
My  bark  is  'neath  the  myrtle  tree, 
I  'wait  the  hour  to  come  to  thee, 

Marianne  ! 

Up  the  stream  I  will  quickly  glide, 
Favor'd  by  the  inflowing  tide  ; 
Be  at  the  flood,  at  the  osier  bed. 
Seraphs  will  hover  'round  thy  head, 

Marianne  ! 

Step  in  my  bark,  and  on  we'll  go 

With  the  clear  stream  where  zephyrs  blow; 


MARIANNE.  1 33 

We  '11  pass  the  amaranthine  bow'rs, 
And  taste  the  fragrance  of  the  flow'rs, 

Marianne ! 

Sweet  Philomela's  strains  will  flow, 
And  cheer  the  night  with  a  loud  echo  ; 
Miss  not  the  hour,  I  thee  implore, 
Once  gone  past  it  will  come  no  more, 

Marianne  ! 
* 
And  when  the  moonbeams  will  decline, 
Hope  shall  be  ours  for  bright  sunshine. 
Which  Cometh  after  break  of  day. 
When  the  blithe  sky-lark  sings  its  lay, 

Marianne  ! 

Once  in  my  bark,  O  trust  my  arm. 
That  will  always  shield  thee  from  harm ; 
7 


134  MARIANNE. 

My  heart  from  thee  shall  never  roam, 
But  guide  thy  soul  tho'  billows  foam, 

Marianne ! 


THE    BRIDAL.  135 


THE    BRIDAL. 

Hark  !    the  convent  bell  is  tolling, 
Heaven  is  smiling  sweetly  down, 

For  this  morn  another  virgin 
Comes  to  win  celestial  crown. 

First  her  advent  'mongst  the  sisters 
Was  to  try  her  spirit's  grace, 

Whether  thro'  her  perseverance 
She  might  take  a  sister's  place. 

Now  in  robes  of  earthly  bridal, 
See  !   she  nears  the  altar  high, 

Crown'd  with  pure  and  spotless  lilies. 
Innocence  to  typify. 


136  THE    BRIDAL. 

Now  she  casts  herself  before  it, 
Raising  heart  and  soul  above, 

Now  she  makes  her  adoration, 
Leaving  earth  and  earthly  love. 

Now  the  work  is  joy  and  gladness, 
Gladness  to  her  inward  heart, 

Yet  she  weeps  hot  tears  of  sadness 
From  her  parents  kind  to  part. 

See  her  now  in  robes  still  bridal, 
Happy  sight  it  is  to  see. 

For  these  robes  are  of  the  convent. 
Bride  of  heaven  now  is  she. 
< 

Doing  works  of  holy  kindness, 
Lov'd  alike  by  rich  and  poor. 

Practicing  the  holy  virtues, 
Working  out  salvation  sure. 


THE    BRIDAL.  137 

After  many  spring  times  over, 

After  many  toilsome  days, 
After  many  summer's  quiet, 

God's  own  voice  her  soul  obeys. 

In  the  convent's  quiet  garden 

Peacefully  her  form  is  laid ; 
O'er  her  head  are  lilies  blooming, 

Neath  the  cross'  holy  shade. 

Frequently  the  sisters  visit, 

On  her  grave  bright  flowers  to  lay, 

Often  pausing  for  a  moment 
Ora  pro  nobis  there  to  say. 

Thus  an  end  to  earth's  best  flowers. 

Thus  the  lily  and  the  rose. 
Bud  and  blossom,  fade  and  wither ; 

Thus  the  sweetest  life  will  close. 


138  BEATRICE. 


BEATRICE. 


I. 


Where  the  purple  heather  glows, 
Where  the  purling  streamlet  flows 
By  the  tow'ring  rocky  height, 
Where  the  falcon  wings  its  flight, 
Where  the  bee  in  flow'ry  dell 
Hummeth  as  a  light-ton'd  bell, 
Where  the  sycamores  branch  across 
The  ever  tranquil  glassy  fosse. 
Where  the  op'ning  roses  glow, 
As  the  Lord  of  Light,  below 
The  ancient  old  castle  wall. 
Lets  his  golden  lustre  fall : 


BEATRICE.  139 


There  dark  sorrow  's  flung  aside, 
And  the  soul  upon  the  tide 
Of  happiness,  serenely  lies. 
And  in  sweet  accent,  to  the  skies 
Uplifts  her  grateful  voice  in  bliss. 
For  repose  so  sweet  as  this. 


II. 
Down  beneath  a  green  willow  tree 
There  sat  a  maiden  fair  to  see. 
And  listened  to  a  gurgling  stream 
Music  giving ;  'twas  seeming  dream  ; 
Violets  pearl'd  with  drops  of  rain, 
Brought  unto  her  the  wish  again 
To  look  upon  the  noble  face 
That  won  her  heart  with  manly  grace  ; 
Willow  leaves  above  were  weeping, 
And  her  eyes  their  vigil  keeping,  • 


1 40  BEATRICE. 

As  from  her  heart  a  thrilling  lay 
Spoke  what  her  fervent  soul  would  say 

Forget  me  not,  tho'  from  my  sight, 

And  far  away  from  me  ; 
But  think  of  me  with  pleasant  thought. 

And  I'll  forget  not  thee. 

Think  of  these  scenes  in  beauty  bright 
That  used  to  give  thee  glee  ; 

Think  oft  of  me  and  bygone  days, 
And  I'll  forget  not  thee. 

Think  of  the  time  our  childish  hearts 
From  gloomy  doubts  were  free ; 

Think  of  our  love,  our  innocence, 
And  I'll  forget  not  thee. 

When  a  vision  o'er  the  scene 
Passed,  like  a  hopeful  dream, 


BEATRICE.  141 

And  in  the  sunny  light  of  day 
Responded  to  her  ardent  lay : 

Thy  love  is  happy,  Beatrice, 

Whene'er  he  thinks  of  thee  ; 
Be  watchful,  faithful,  Beatrice, 

His  thoughts  are  oft  of  thee. 

Thou'lt  see  him  shortly,  Beatrice, 

He  will  return  to  thee ; 
When  trees  will  blossom,  Beatrice, 

He  will  come  back  to  thee. 

A  ladye  rob'd  in  purest  white 
It  was  who  sang  this  lay  of  light. 
And  Beatrice  amid  the  flowers, 
Underneath  the  willow  bowers. 
Startled,  arose  to  leave  the  scene, 
In  dread  that  reason,  once  serene, 
*7 


142  BEATRICE. 

With  this  beauteous  ray  had  gone 

That  she'd  been  bless'd  to  look  upon. 

But  no  !   the  ladye  to  her  side 

'Gain  from  the  air  did  quickly  glide, 

And  O,  her  face  wore  such  a  smile, 

That  'neath  it  there  could  be  no  guile. 

And  down  upon  her  knees  in  prayer 

Before  the  ladye  smiling  there, 

In  accents  sweet  the  words  flow'd  free, 

^'Avel  ave!  Sainte  Marie  .f*^ 

And  O,  her  soul  had  found  repose. 

Where  the  fragrant  primrose  grows  ; 

And  back  unto  her  father's  hall 

In  joy  she  went,  at  ev'ning  fall, 

When  cried  retainers  in  amaze — 

"  A  miracle  !   see  glory  blaze 

"  Its  wreath  around  her  beauteous  face, 

"  O  heaven  here  has  shed  its  grace  ! " 


BEATRICE.  •  143 

And  when  the  trees  with  blossoms  bow'd 

From  out  the  abbey  bells  aloud 

Came  merry  peals  :  a  bride  was  she 

Of  Leo,  from  sunny  Britany. 

And  where  the  blessed  vision  stood, 

On  the  moss  in  the  vernal  wood, 

A  crystal  fountain  freely  flows 

And  heals  the  ills  of  mortal  woes  ; 

And  pilgrims  at  the  fount  are  found 

Unto  this  day  from  the  country  round. 


144  WITH    GENTLE    LOVE. 


WITH  GENTLE    LOVE. 

When  falls  the  shade  of  night, 

And  the  birds  are  gone  to  rest, 
Ever  sighing  is  my  heart 
By  thy  love  to  be  caress 'd  ; 
And  I  think  of  thee, 
Love  of  my  heart, 
With  gentle  love. 

When  comes  the  morning  light, 

And  the  sunbeams  fall  to  cheer. 
Enraptured  is  my  heart 

With  bright  hope  of  thee,  my  dear ; 
And  I  think  of  thee, 
Love  of  my  heart. 
With  gentle  love. 


WITH   GENTLE   LOVE.  1 45 

When  light  of  day  is  past, 

And  the  tasks  of  life  are  done, 
In  clinging  to  thee  my  heart 
Finds  the  way  of  peace  begun  ; 
And  I  think  of  thee. 
Love  of  my  heart. 
With  gentle  love. 


146 


STELLA    MATUTINA. 


STELLA    MATUTINA. 


When  waves  of  the  sea 
In  the  storm  lash  high, 
Across  the  dark  waves 
Thy  shadows  e'er  fly. 

Light  of  the  darkness, 
Thou  star  of  the  morn. 
Beacon  for  wand'rer. 
When  seeking  the  bourne. 


Star  of  the  future. 
Thou  light  of  the  earth. 
Gem  of  the  orient 
To  aid  the   new  birth. 


STELLA    MATUTINA.  1 47 

Stay  of  the  trusty, 
And  light  to  the  soul, 
Guide  unto  reason. 
And  then  to  the  goal. 


148  REFUGIUM    PECCATORUM. 


REFUGIUM    PECCATORUM. 

O  THOU  the  star  for  sinners  here, 
Who  from  thy  place  on  high  doth  speak, 
And  bid  the  fallen  suff 'rer  near. 
That  unction  soothing  to  the  weak. 

O  thou  the  refuge  when  cast  down 
Of  all  that  lift  their  hearts  to  thee  ; 
The  mother  to  the  lost  child  found, 
Tis  comfort,  hope,  thy  love  to  see. 

O  thou  for  sinners  sweet  repose, 
AVhen  to  thy  heart  they  own  their  grief; 
A  fallen  child,  whate'er  his  state, 
By  seeking  thee  will  find  relief 


REFUGIUM    PECCATORUM.  1 49 

O  thou  the  refuge  in  distress, 
It  is  to  thee  earth's  children  fly  ; 
To  seek  for  soothing  comfort  here, 
To  ease  the  heart,  and  ease  the  sigh. 


150  MATER    DOLOROSA. 


MATER    DOLOROSA. 

FIRST    DOLOUR. 

He  is  !    He  came  :  thy  love,  thy  rest 
Thy  joy  is  great ;  thy  heart  is  fed  : 

A  prattling  infant  at  thy  breast 
To  take  its  milk  as  daily  bread. 

He  came,  the  curse  of  Eve  to  stay. 
As  predestin'd  from  first  of  time  : 

Rose  of  Judah,  through  thee,  the  ray 
Of  God  came  down  by  David's  line. 

He  came,  a  son  to  take  thy'  love. 
Such  love !  to  give  back  unto  thee, 


MATER    DOLOROSA.^>**''^^^^p!|j:^^l^^> 


(TTKIVERSITT 


Until  first  sorrow  from  above  '""^^^-^^i'!??!!!^ 
Came  forth  to  work  what  was  to  be. 


He  came  to  thee,  thy  heart  knew  joy ; 

But  then  a  something  came  to  mar 
That  love  which  on  thy  first-born  boy 

Shone  forth  from  thee,  thou  brightest  star. 

When  holy  Simeon  saw  thy  son. 

He  told  that  sword  would  pierce  thy  soul, 
And  then  thy  sorrows  were  begun  : 

And  none  but  God  could  thee  console. 

He  came  the  strongest  ties  to  break. 

To  weigh  thee  down,  and  cause  thee  grief. 

To  bring  those  saddest  sorrows  forth. 
Which  here  on  earth  ne'er  found  relief. 

He  came ;  pity  the  mother's  pain 

Whose  heart  with  this  still  dwelt  above ; 


152  MATER   DOLOROSA. 

That  heart  which  early  thus  -had  ta'en 
Deep  sorrow  equall'd  but  by  love. 


SECOND    DOLOUR. 

The  magi  from  the  East  came  forth, 
And  by  a  star  they  found  the  word  ; 

They  ador'd  the  lamb,  and  then  return'd 
Unto  their  homes,  their  flocks  to  herd. 

But  Herod  mock'd  by  these  wise  men, 
Gave  out  the  crudest  decree  : 

He  tried  God's  power  and  might  again 
To  set  the  suff'ring  people  free. 

Rachel  wept :  "  the  great  God  lives  on  ; " 
A  piercing  sorrow's  now  begun. 

For  Joseph  tells  they  must  be  gone 
Far,  to  Egypt,  to  save  their  son. 


MATER   DOLOROSA.  1 53 

He  was  ;  but  still  a  sorrow  flows 

Fresh  from  that  stream  of  purest  love  ; 

It  flows  from  purest  virgin  rose, 
Filled  with  grace  from  God  above. 

She  pressed  her  child  unto  her  breast, 
And  wept  a  tear  of  heartfelt  woe  ; 

She  pray'd  to  God,  with  soul  oppress'd, 
To  dry  the  fount  whence  sorrows  flow. 

Ah  !   she  lov'd  a  mother's  charm. 
Her  own  ;  her  fondest  darling,  joy, 

The  little  lily  on  her  arm. 

Was  God,  was  man,  a  simple  boy. 

Sad  was  her  heart,  the  sword  was  there, 
'Twas  driven  thro',  the  blood  was  drawn  ; 

Sorrow  liv'd  on,  and  aching  fear 
Came  to  the  heart,  to  sorrow  born. 


154  MATER    DOLOROSA. 


THIRD     DOLOUR. 


The  love  within  the  mother's  heart 

Could  scarcely  bear  the  boy  from  view ; 

And  when  at  times  he'd  from  her  part, 
Sorrow's  sword  would  pierce  anew. 

He  grew  in  wisdom,  filFd  with  grace  ; 

But  yet  he  play'd  as  children  do  ; 
He  had  a  pretty,  modest  face. 

Was  child  of  God  the  whole  day  thro'. 

But  then  the  time  of  feast  came  on. 

And  to  Jerusalem  she  went. 
The  fear  of  God  around  her  shone. 

But  sorrow  to  her  heart  was  sent. 

When  th' return  home  was  being  made. 
The  parents  for  their  hope  look'd  round. 


MATER   DOLOROSA.  I 55 

And  saw  their  child  away  had  stray'd, 
Yet  thought,  with  others,  he'd  be  found. 

And  on  they  went  another  day, 

When  Oh  !  what  sorrow  rent  her  heart 

For  sad,  the  child  was  gone  away 
From  father,  mother,  far  apart. 

Back  to  Jerusalem  they  went, 

And  sought  the  child  in  every  spot; 

'Neath  sorrow  the  mother's  heart  bent, 
Such  was  the  sword,  such  was  her  lot. 

At  last,  after  three  days  away, 

They  found  in  Zion's  porch  their  son  ; 

They  were  in  awe  at  what  he'd  say, 
And  Mary's  sorrow  afresh  did  run. 


156  MATER  DOLOROSA. 

FOURTH  DOLOUR. 

See  !   as  a  sheep  he's  led  away : 
The  multitude  looks  on  to  see 

What  happens  to  the  lamb  this  day — 
The  son  of  man,  the  great  to  be. 

A  crowd  of  women  follows  him  ; 

He  speaks,  and  tells  them'  not  lament 
His  loss,  but  for  their  children  weep  : 

What  is,  is  wisdom,  God's  intent. 

But  there  was  one  who  sought  relief, 
As  from  her  mother's  heart  did  flow 

A  fearful,  gushing  stream  of  grief, 

Which  mov'd  the  hardest  heart  to  woe. 

'Twas  sword  that  pierc'd  from  love  of  son  ; 
'Twas  sword  so  great  that  none  can  tell  ; 


MATER    DOLOROSA.  157 

She  look'd,  and  saw  all  that  was  done, 
And  saw  when  'neath  his  cross  he  fell. 

My  child  !   my  child  !    Oh  !  sad's  my  loss  ; 

What  is  the  offence  thou'st  done  to  man, 
That  thou  art  taken  with  that  cross  ? 

Oh  women  !  answer  if  ye  can. 

Say  ye  that  wail  his  dreadful  state, 
My  son!   my  all!    the  joy  of  soul ! 

Say  on,  and  ease  my  sorrows  great — 
Say  on,  ere  time  shall  o'er  me  roll. 

Ease  my  poor  heart ;  my  soul  give  light ; 

Oh !   ease  the  terror-stricken  part ; 
Tell  me  why  this  tragic  scene 

With  sorrow  came  to  rend  my  heart. 


8 


158  MATER    DOLOROSA. 

FIFTH     DOLOUR. 

She  wept,  and  was  it  not  severe 
To  suffer  as  she  must  have  done  ; 

To  drag  from  her  heart — worse  than  tear- 
That  ever  much-beloved  son? 

She  wept,  and  stood  beneath  the  wood 
AVhereon  her  son  was  crucified ; 

That  son  so  dear,  so  pure  and  good. 
Who  for  the  sins  of  this  world  died. 

She  wept,  and  had  a  mother's  grief, 
As  from  her  heart  the  tears  fell  fast ; 

She  felt  like  others  no  relief, 
Until  from  God  it  came  at  last. 

She  wept,  for  what  a  fate,  to  be 
Cruelly  torn  before  her  eyes; 


MATER    DOLOROSA.  1 59 

Nailed  upon  the  fatal  tree, 

Despite  her  'treaties,  tears  and  sighs. 

She  wept,  that  angelic  mother. 

Mediatrix  for  all  below ; 
She  who  is  above  all  others, 

Consolatrix  for  children's  woe. 

She  wept :   her  son  was  gone  from  earth, 
And  by  his  cross  she  knelt  to  pray, 

To  soothe  that  love,  which,  from  his  birth, 
Had  brought  her  joy  from  day  to  day. 


SIXTH     DOLOUR. 

Now  he  is  not ;   my  son  !   my  son  ! 

What  shall  I  do ;  ^where  is  my  love  ? 
A  sword  of  sorrows  now  begun 

To  pierce  afresh  a  mother's  love. 


l6o  MATER    DOLOROSA. 

Thy  tender  breast,  thy  face  so  fair, 

With  bloody  marks  from  crown  of  thorns ; 

Thy  broken  limbs,  thy  flowing  hair. 

My  heart  will  break ;  why  was  I  born  ? 

My  boy !   my  love  !   my  angel  son  ! 

Alone  I  'm  left,  I  've  sorrow  great ; 
Oh !   come  the  end,  let  course  be  run  ; 

Come,  heaven,  love,  and  happy  state. 

As  from  this  fatal  tree  of  grief 

Into  my  lap  I  take  my  boy. 
My  heart  and  soul  find  sweet  relief 

To  see  his  face,  to  heave  each  sigh. 

This  is  my  son  !    my  only  boy^ ! 

That  darling  who  brought  happy  day ; 
'T  is  he  who  gave  such  holy  joy. 

That  love  which  sorrow  ne'er  will  stay. 


MATER   DOLOROSA.  l6l 

And  now  he  's  not,  and  I  'm  left  here, 

To  have  my  heart  with  sword  pierc'd  thro', 

To  grieve  and  drop  a  mother's  tear, 
To  wound  my  heart  and  love  anew. 

This  is  his  hand  I  used  to  hold. 

And  these  his  eyes,  his  cheeks,  his  face  ; 

And  now  his  heart  of  love  untold 
Will  be  for  all  the  human  race. 


SEVENTH     DOLOUR. 

That  heart  so  full  of  love,  so  pure  ; 

That  heart,  so  wounded  by  the  sight ; 
That  heart  so  constant  and  so  sure 

Not  to  forget  love's  holy  light. 

The  body  now  was  taken  forth. 
In  linen  wrapp'd,  and  laid  apart 


1 62  MATER    DOLOROSA. 

In  the  sepulchre  in  the  rock, 

And  a  sword  pierc'd  the  mother's  heart. 

She  wept  to  look  upon  his  brow 
As  he  lay  dead,  and  cold  as  clay, 

Picturing  his  youth,  the  words  he  said  : 
He  dies  to  meet  another  day. 

Gone  !  dead  !  Oh  !  can  it  be,  my  son, 
That  thou  art  thus  before  mine  eyes  ? 

How  strikes  this  sword  unto  my  heart, 
To  pierce  it  with  my  tears  and  sighs. 

Mary  wept,  for  her  life  was  sad. 

When  Jesus  slept  the  sleep  of  peace ; 

She  '11  ne'er  know  joy,  she  '11  ne'er  be  glad, 
Nothing  will  now  the  sword  release. 

She  wept,  she  sobb'd,  as  mother  does, 
AVhen  from  her  heart  the  child  is  torn  ; 


MATER    DOLOROSA.  1 63 

She  was  a  mother  fill'd  with  love, 
And  thus  as  mother  she  did  mourn. 

Pure  was  the  heart,  and  pure  the  soul, 
Spotless  and  fair  the  virgin  star ; 

Sorrows  were  her's  before  the  goal 

Beam'd  o'er  her  soul  from  heaven  afar. 

MpriTIVERSITY} 


164  LINES    TO   TINTERN   ABBEY. 


^  LINES    TO    TINTERN    ABBEY. 

Hail  !   thou  noble  ruins  of  the  past, 

Old  Tintern !   majestic  structure. 
Thou  mark  of  God's  holy  religion 

Inspir'st  awe  from  stately  grandeur. 
There  standeth  knight  Strongbow  in  armour ; 

Here  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus  ; 
Bones  lie  there  of  nobles  departed  ; 

Here  is  the  range  of  the  altar 
Where  of  old,  Cistercian  brothers 

Sang  praises  to  God  for  His  mercies. 
Grand  must  have  been  such  ceremony. 

With  the  loud  peals  of  an  organ  : 
Giving  to  the  pious  souls  transport 

To  the  presence  of  the  Holy ; 


LINES   TO    TINTERN   ABBEY.  1 65 

The  lowly  bowing  down  in  meekness, 

Removed  from  this  world's  sorrows  ; 
Good  doing  and  hallowed  brothers 

Who  gave  to  the  wants  of  strangers. 
No  simple  tombstones  tell  their  names, 

No  epitaphs  tell  their  virtues. 
Alas  !  they  are  gone  ;  faded  away ; 

As  flowers  do  in  the  hedgerow. 
Their  holy  haunts  will  know  them  no  more, 

Neither  cloisters,  nor  their  chapel. 
Heavy  crosses  in  this  life  they  bore : 

Their  reward  is  crowns  of  glory 
In  the  last,  and  the  happiest  home. 

Where  it  is  summer  forever. 


List !    and  look  upon  the  scene  of  old 
That  comes  as  vision  before  me : 


1 66  LINES   TO    TINTERN    ABBEY. 

Hark  !   to  the  tone  of  the  vesper  bell 

In  the  belfry  tower  swinging. 
See  stragglers  come  from  the  cloisters  and  cells, 

And  join  in  the  throng  to  the  chapel, 
Loudly  the  heavenly  peals  come  forth 

From  the  organ,  'tis  as  incense. 
Before  the  altar  the  brothers  serve 

The  Mighty  God  of  Israel ; 
Others  in  the  choir  their  voices  raise  : 

Sanctum  et  terribile  nomen  ejus. 
Now  aloud  they  chant,  and  lowly  bow : 

EleisoHy  Kyrie  Eleison. 
Now,  upon  high  the  Host  is  raised, 

Tis  God  Himself  in  mystery. 
In  adoration  they  all  bow  down, 

Unworthy  to  look  upon  Him. 
Listen  now  to  their  voices  chanting : 

Tantum  ergo  sacramentufn : 


LINES   TO   TINTERN    ABBEY.  1 67 

Those  words  that  speak  to  the  heart  of  man 

When  his  soul  is  all  attention. 
Now  comes  the  Father's  benediction, 

And  nothing  is  known  but  meekness, 
When  noble  hearts  and  souls  are  filled 

Full  of  love  for  God  their  Maker, 
And  for  those  who  sob,  and  those  who  want. 

In  this  the  life  of  affliction. 
See,  now,  in  procession  they  withdraw, 

The  massive  ruins  remaining: 
Where  dwelleth  the  grace  of  God's  great  saints 

For  the  hearts  that  cry — pray  for  us. 


Ye  hills  !   that  witnessed  things  gone  past 

Can  tell  of  the  lovely  valley 
Where  the  waters  of  sweet  peace  flowed, 

And  fertilized  the  vineyard. 


1 68  LINES   TO    TINTERN    ABBEY. 

Ye  moss-grown  dells  and  ancient  glens 

Can  tell  of  the  scenes  of  springtime: 
How  'neath  the  shade  of  the  forest  king 

The  kine  of  the  abbey  grazed. 
And  tell  us  how,  from  the  hamlet-side, 

For  food,  came  those  that  were  needy. 
And  tell  us  of  time  when  content  liv'd 

In  the  heart  of  peer  and  peasant. 
And  tell  us  of  deeds  of  chivalry, 

When  hearts  to  God  were  submissive ; 
And  Sir  Knight  his  all,  his  castle  left. 

To  fight  the  fight  of  the  Christian. 
Here  was  sweet  rest  when  he  homeward  came 

Careworn  and  weary  from  battle  ; 
Here  were  the  wants  of  body  and  soul 

Relieved  at  every  season. 
O  list !    as  the  heavy  portal  swings 

Upon  its  great  creaking  hinges. 


LINES   TO   TINTERN   ABBEY.  1 69 

To  the  cheerful  voice,  that  welcome  gives 

To  the  tir'd  and  hungry  pilgrim, 
Who  has  travel'd  far,  and  thro'  the  storm, 

Across  the  hills  of  Cambria. 
His  raiment 's  wet,  and  he  needeth  food ; 

And  here  God  giveth  him  all  things. 
The  tenderest  love,  and  watchful  care. 

Were  ever  the  gifts  of  the  good  men  ; 
The  orphan  child,  andfihe  infirm  poor. 

Found  here  a  home  and  a  refuge. 


Hark  !   to  the  bell  of  the  Angelus 
Echoing  in  the  distant  hills  ; 

And  the  Ave,  Ave  Maria, 
Sending  a  holy  enchantment 

Unto  the  souJ  that  clingeth  to  God, 
And  feedeth  in  fairest  pastures. 


lyo  LINES    TO   TINTERN   ABBEY. 

The  stern  grey  rocks  that  tower  on  high 

Have  look'd  on  the  many  virtues 
Achieved  within  the  crumbling  walls 

By  the  carefully-tending  shepherds. 
The  very  walls  as  a  witness  stand 

Of- deeds  of  love  and  denial; 
And  is  there  a  heart  can  turn  away 

And  say  not,  good  men,  pray  for  us  ? 


Lo  !   it  is  night,  and  the  moon  looks  down, 

And  naught  is  heard  but  the  river ; 
The  gurgling  Wye  as  it  rolls  along 

With  time,  its  attendant  ever. 
With  deeper  awe  the  soul  is  struck 

As  the  moon  beams  on  the  ruins. 
For  sweet  sanctity,  a  part  of  God, 

Is  there,  and  speaks  to  the  spirit. 


LINES   TO   TINTERN    ABBEY.  171 

Flowers  may  blow,  and  flowers  may  fade, 

And  the  river  roll  forever  ; 
Summers  may  come,  and  summers  may  go. 

But  from  this  spot,  sanctity,  never. 


172  THE    GOLDEN    CITY, 


THE     GOLDEN     CITY. 

Thy  Golden  Gate,  propitious  sight  to  view, 

As  lifts  the  veil  of  mist  when  morn  is  new  ; 

And  underneath,  the  sun's  bright  charms  unfold, 

And  like  a  mystic  spell,  the  senses  hold. 

Away,  from  far  away,  the  bark  has  sped, 

And  battled  long  with  strong  winds  from  ahead  ; 

When  now  what  joy  comes  to  the  wand'rer's  mind, 

A  pleasant  greeting,  at  the  gate,  to  find. 

The  pearl-white  sails  bend  loosely  'fore  the  mast ; 

A  gentle  breeze  prevails ;   all  storms  are  past ; 

And  harborward  the  vessel's  prow  doth  turn  ; 

And  with  exulting  hope  the  heart  doth  burn, 

As  thro'  the  harbor's  mouth  she  's  quickly  borne, 

Favoured  by  the  fortunes  of  the  morn. 


THE   GOLDEN    CITY.  1 73 

But  see  !  upon  the  right,  and  stretching  far, 
A  mighty  city.     Fell  it  from  the  car 
Of  Jupiter  ?     O  wondrous  sight  to  view. 
Thy  temples  and  thy  palaces  so  new  I 
Successful  youth  !   the  mighty  palm  's  to  thee. 
Thou  Golden  City  of  the  Western  Sea. 
Progress  is  the  watchword,  fear  not  the  storm. 
But  fear  dark  pride,  as  onward  all  are  borne. 
Caesar,  with  his  greatness,  went  unto  the  tomb. 
And  mighty  cities  once,  now  're  sunk  in  gloom. 
Youthful  tho'  ye  be,  ye  Ve  known  dismay. 
That  lurks  in  the  wake  e'en  of  imperial  sway. 
Be  trustful,  then,  as  night's  mantle  passes  o'er 
The  wide-spread  region  of  the  Western  shore ; 
For  hope  comes  from  the  East,  with  mighty  host; 
Thy  star  ascendant  is  ;  from  ev'ry  coast 
'T  is  view'd,  and  noted  -,   the  present  doth  presage 
A  mighty  future,  at  no  distant  age. 


174  THE    GOLDEN    CITY. 

Then,  on,  and  prosper  :    Phoebus  smiles  on  thee. 

And  an  iron  road  proclaims  thy  destiny. 

But  hark  !   the  giant  of  the  mountain  wakes, 

The  mountain  trembles,  and  the  strong  man  shakes. 

O  !    Power  above.  Thy  might  proclaim. 

And  the  youthful  city  spare,  spare  to  fame. 

Let  not  the  mighty  castles  plough  the  deep 

To  find  her  gone,  forever  hush'd  in  sleep. 

Oh  !    stay  the  evil  of  volcanic  rage. 

And  let  her  live,  the  dreadful  foe  assuage. 

Oh  !    let  her  lofty  minarets  remain. 

Let  her  in  modern  progress  be  the  fane ; 

Wonder  she  is,  altho'  the  age  is  wise  ; 

For  thought  like  lightning  thro'  the 'ocean  flies. 

Oh  !    spare  those  mountains  round  about  her,  too. 

That  rise  so  stately,  and  enhance  the  view. 

Condemn  her  not  all  in  her  youth  to  die. 

But  spare  her  still,  to  meet  the  trav'ler's  eye. 


THE   GOLDEN   CITY.  1 75 

Let  not  the  giant  of  the  mountain  roll 
And  rumble,  like  to  thunder  from  the  pole  ; 
But  let  her  on  the  Golden  coast  remain, 
The  joy  of  wand'rer  from  the  spreading  main. 
Onward !   who  is  it  knows  the  future  goal, 
Who  can  foretell  what  time's  page  may  unroll  ? 
Oh  !    let  her  live,  a  mighty  wonder,  she  ! 
The  Queen  of  cities  on  Pacific  Sea. 


176  COLUMBIA. 


COLUMBIA. 

The  lord  of  the  sky  in  his  chariot  rides, 

And  scatters  his  beams  below  ; 
Day  after  day  from  his  chariot  throne 

His  smiles  aid  the  flow'rs  to  glow ; 
And  fall  what  gloom  o'er  that  country  may, 

Along  with  departed  power. 
He  ever  his  sympathy  will  display, 

And  smile  thro'  her  adverse  hour : 
As  he  smil'd  when  the  busy  hum  of  life 

Loud  sounded  upon  the  shore  ; 
When  commerce  was  teeming  in  her  ports, 

And  her  barks  the  seas  rode  o'er. 
'Most  deserted  her  homes,  her  fields  untill'd, 

Her  lovers  are  in  dismay  ; 


COLUMBIA.  177 

For  memory  days  from  the  past  doth  call, 
And  pity  a  sigh  betray. 

Her  flowers  are  bright,  and  no  clime  's  more  fair ; 

Lovely  are  her  hills  and  dales  : 
Her  bowers  are  beauteous,  where  forests  shade ; 

Crystal  are  her  streams  in  th'  vales. 
Their  antlers  tossing  on  her  mountain-tops, 

Glens  below  the  deer  survey  ; 
And  majestically  sniff  the  balmy  air. 

At  the  golden  break  of  day. 
The  roses  are  fragrant  her  summers  yield, 

In  her  silent  sylvan  groves  ; 
The  charms  are  romantic  that  deck  her  streams. 

Where  the  Indian  maiden  roves. 
By  Fate's  sad  decree,  now  her  blighted  life 

Is  disturb'd  by  the  fitful  moan 
Of  a  famish'd  wolf  with  destroying  paws. 

That  her  broad  lands  o'er  doth  roam. 


lyS  COLUMBIA. 

In  trembling  each  tenement  door  they  'd  bar, 

To  keep  out  the  rav'ning  foe  ; 
And  in  dauntless  hope  all  await  the  dawn 

Which  may  dissipate  their  woe. 
Then  smile,  bright  lord,  from   thy  chariot  throne, 

And  incite  each  heart  to  glow; 
Let  banners  unfurl,  and  let  manly  prime 

To  her  shores,  inviting,  flow. 
Oh  !    drive  from  the  encumbered  land  the  wolf 

That  threat'ning  would  devour ; 
Her  commerce  revive,  and  her  hills  explore; 

Restore  her  wonted  power. 

The  sea-mews  skim  o'er  her  welcoming  cliffs ; 

Nereids  of  the  ocean  smile  ; 
And  Naiads  by  the  side  of  her  mountain  streams 

Merrily  the  hours  beguile. 
Then  Fortune,  thou  exile,  return  to  her  shore. 

And  raise  thy  voice  in  each  glen; 


COLUMBIA.  179 

Festive  joy  the  propitious  day  shall  crown, 

That  bringeth  thee  back  again. 
Let  the  merry  sound  of  the  woodman's  axe 

Ring  thro'  the  ambient  air, 
When  Aurora  shall  smile  from  her  azure  vault. 

And  thy  bright  return  declare. 


EARLY     POEMS. 


DEDICATION.  183 


DEDICATION. 

THESE  EARLY  POEMS   ARE  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED  TO  H.  A.  J.,  ESQR.,  B.A. 

On  thee  may  star  of  fortune  shine, 

As  silver  dew  upon  the  rose ; 
May  virtue,  with  her  charms  divine. 

As  breath  of  spring,  dispel  all  woes  : 
May  choicest  treasures  in  her  train 

Attend,  as  golden  morn  array'd; 
And  may'st  thou  wreaths  of  laurel  gain, 

Rewards  for  classic  lore  display'd. 
May  wisdom  from  thy  gen'rous  breast 

In  cloudless  lustre  ever  shine ; 
And  may  thy  noble  soul  find  rest 

In  sympathetic  love  divine. 


184  DEDICATION. 

These  wishes  from  sweet  friendship's  shrine, 
Penn'd  by  my  muse's  magic  will, 

I  trust  will  o'er  thee  ever  shine. 

And  bind  our  friendship  firmer  still. 


SPRING.  185 


SPRING. 

Hear  in  the  vale  how  the  little  birds  sing, 

As  they  hop  from  bough  to  bough : 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit, 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit ; 
We  have  truly  bright  spring  now. 
And  we  welcome  thee :   all  hail !   to  thee. 

With  rays  of  sun  for  flowers, 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit, 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit. 
Along  with  fresh'ning  showers ; 
'Gain  we  welcome  thee  :   all  hail !   to  thee ; 

For  with  thee  's  milder  weather ; 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit. 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit ; 


l86  SPRING. 

Frost  and  snow  're  gone  together ; 
We  will  merry  be  and  sing  with  glee, 

And  we'll  make  the  woodland  ring : 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit. 

Chirp,  chirp,  twit,  twit, 
With  welcome  to  thee,  sweet  spring  ! 


FLOWERETS.  1 87 


FLOWERETS. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

For  indeed  ye  tell 
The  heart  that  's  sad  and  weary : 

To  hope,  and  't  will  be  well ; 
To  dry  the  falling  tears. 

And  lift  the  soul  on  high  ; 
To  quell  all  anxious  fears 

While  God  Himself  is  nigh. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you ! 

Fresh  and  sweet  are  ye. 
Bringing  pleasant  thought. 

With  perfume  sprinkled  free  ; 


1 88  FLOWERETS. 

And  ye  shine  in  beauty,   ^ 
'T  is  beauty  dear  to  see  ; 

Ye  bloom  in  simple  quiet, 
For  ye  from  stain  are  free. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you ! 

For  your  brilliant  hues 
Our  minds  should  ever  feed 

With  better  thoughts  and  views. 
Ye  bud,  ye  bloom,  and  die. 

And  tell  to  man  a  tale  ; 
And  O  !    I  wonder  why 

So  many  of  us  fail  ? 

Flowerets,  I  love  you ! 

Playing  to  the  breeze. 
Giving  up  your  honey 

Unto  the  busy  bees  ; 


FLOWERETS.  1 89 

Ye  sweetest  fragrance  yield 

To  the  zephyr  going  past, 
To  waft  into  the  chamber 

Of  the  child  that 's  sinking  fast. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

Emblems  of  things  pure, 
Ye  tell  that  earth  is  false. 

That  nothing  here  is  sure  ; 
Ever  speaking  simply 

Of  brightest  hope  to  all. 
Telling  of  a  refuge 

For  those  who  lowly  fall. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

For  ye  whisper  love. 
And  tell  of  greater  power 

That  rules  in  world  above  ; 


190  FLOWERETS. 

Ye  tell  of  One  who  joys 
All  to  forgive,  forget ; 

Ye  tell  of  love  forever, 
Where  suns  will  never  set. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

Simple  tho'  ye  be ; 
Ye  look  so  bright  and  happy, 

Ye  breathe  sweet  peace  to  me  ; 
Ye  teach  the  heart  to  cling 

To  One  who  doth  entreat 
The  fallen  to  return, 

And  taste  of  pleasures  sweet. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

Love  to  angels'  eyes. 
When  upon  thy  innocence 

They  look  down  from  the  skies, 


FLOWERETS.  I9I 

And  cheer  thee  to  perform 

A  mission  great  on  earth  : 

By  innocence  to  speak 

Of  other,  brighter  bjjrtf^J^^^p^^Mj^ 

XJITIVERSITT, 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

The  jasmine  which  throws 
Its  perfume  so  fragrant, 

To  soothe  our  cruel  woes  ; 
To  whisper  to  the  heart 

That  sorrow  for  the  sin 
Is  proof  of  His  assistance 

A  place  above  to  win. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

Monthly  roses  bright. 
Clustering  round  the  porch 

To  give  the  heart  delight  ; 


192  FLOWERETS. 

To  cheer  the  cotter's  home 
AVith  sweetness  undefird  ; 

To  deck  the  lowly  roof 
Of  nature's  simple  child. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

When* the  morn  is  new; 
For  ye  cheer  with  sweetness 

When  drops  the  falling  dew ; 
Ye  like  jewels  sparkle, 

So  bright  are  ye  to  see  ; 
Ye  point  the  way  to  bliss 

For  all  eternity. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you ! 

Pretty,  bright  flowers, 
Growing  in  simple  quiet 

Beneath  some  shady  bowers  ; 


FLOWERETS.  1 93 


Dress'd  in  modest  beauty, 
Ye  meekly  fill  the  part 

Allotted  by  our  Maker, 
And  ye  purify  the  heart. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

Blooming  by  a  rill ; 
Pretty  blue  forget-me-nots, 

My  thoughts  are  of  you  still ; 
Tho'  from  you  I  Ve  been  borne, 

My  heart  e'er  lingers  near 
The  pathway  and  your  blossom, 

And  mem'ry  drops  a  tear. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

On  a  sabbath  morn. 
When  in  lover's  best  frock-coat 

A  red  rose-bud  is  borne  ; 


194  FLOWERETS. 

Ent'ring  the  village  church, 
The  maidens'  blushes  rise : 

One  of  these  is  idoliz'd, 

And  love  lights  up  lier  eyes. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you  ! 

For  to  muse  with  ye 
Is  for  the  soul  a  stream 

Of  cherish'd  purity ; 
Ye  charm  the  heart  to  joy 

With  rays  of  greatest  light, 
For  ye  like  angels  glisten 

When  noonday's  sun  is  bright. 

Flowerets,  I  love  you ! 

May-flowers  blowing 
By  the  side  of  the  brook 

Thro'  the  dingle  flowing  ; 


FLOWERETS.  1 95 


Bright  yellow  May-flowers, 
Flowers  of  Sancta  Maria, 

Yielding  to  her  homage, 
Alma,  Mater,  Maria ! 


196  COME. 


COME. 

Come,  to  the  greenwood  fly, 
Come  and  hear  the  linnet  sing, 
Come  where  the  throstle's  notes 
Make  loud  the  wild  welkin  ring, 
Come  to  the  fairy  bowers 
Where  elfin  sprites  are  at  play. 
Come  where  the  violets  §low 
And  butterflies  flutter  all  day. 
Come,  come,  and  stray  with  me. 
Amid  love-inspiring  flow'rs. 
Where  fragrant  eglantine 
Is  refresh'd  by  summer  show'rs. 
Come  where  the  oxlips  grow. 
And  the  nightingale  sings  its  lay. 


COME.  197 


Come  to  the  echoing  woods, 
Come  where  the  moonbeams  play. 
Come,  come  away  with  me. 
Buttercups  and  daisies  to  cull, 
Come  in  my  skiff  on  the  lake, 
O  come  while  the  sails  are  full. 


198 


SHADOWS. 


SHADOAVS. 

There  is  a  time 
When  the  blessings 
Of  friends  now  gone 
Around  us  fall. 
O  memory, 
See  that  dear  form 
Shadowing  plain 
Upon  the  wall ; 
Or  in  the  chair 
The  shadow 's  seen, 
By  the  dim  fall 
Of  th'  taper's  light ; 
Or  near  the  couch 
It  sheds  the  rays 


SHADOWS.  199 


Of  morning  bright, 
AVith  smiling  love 
From  angel's  face, 
To  cheer  our  hearts 
With  pure  delight, 
While  yet  't  is  night. 


THE   STORM. 


THE    STORM. 

Dark  is  the  night,  the  storm  rages  strong, 
The  clouds  are  black  that  come  rolling  along 
From  over  the  troubled  sea ; 

Upon  the  sea's  breast  a  bark  is  borne. 
And  she  runs  quite  helpless  before  the  storm, 
And  she  plunges,  lifts  and  rolls. 

She  nears  the  shore  and  the  tempest  mocks. 
And  dashes  her  against  the  rugged  rocks, 
A  crash  and  she  sinks  from  view ; 

But  alas  !  the  sailors'  cries  are  borne 
Far  across  the  waves  thro'  the  raging  storm, 
Asking  for  mercy  from  God. 


THE   STORM. 

O  where  q.re  their  hearts  ?  what  a  sad  tale, 
As  their  lives  ebb  out  and  their  limbs  all  fail 
But  where,  alas  I  are  their  souls  ? 

Anon  the  sun  shines  o'er  the  briny  deep. 
And  the  waves  of  the  sea  are  hush'd  in  sleep  : 
But  where  are  the  wand'rers  gone  ? 

See  the  widow,  the  fatherless  wait 
The  return  of  those  who  have  met  this  fate  ; 
But  alas  !  they  wait  in  vain. 

For  never  !  never !  till  all  is  done. 
Till  trouble  is  past  and  the  fight  is  won, 
Will  they  meet  those  forms  again. 


ECCE    HOMO. 


ECCE    HOMO. 

EccE  Homo  :  His  head  droops  low ; 
O  sweetest  love,  yet  fraught  with  woe, 
Which  moves  the  heart  of  very  stone 
And  makes  it  vow  for  ills   atone. 
But  hear  his  sigh,  as  from  his  eyes 
The  radiant  spark  of  life  now  flies. 
Ecce  Homo  :  like  setting  sun, 
O  sweet  love,  what  hast  thou  won  ? 
For  human  race  he  suffers  death, 
And  thou  art  in  his  parting  breath. 
Ecce  Homo  :  his  friend  St.  John 
To  sorrow  yields,  for  love  now  gone  ; 
But  o'er  his  soul  bright  hope  has  shed 
Heav'nly  manna — lambs  will  be  fed  ; 
Ecce  Homo. 


CONSOLATION.  203 


CONSOLATION. 

O  !  WHERE  are  the  sweet  viole'ts  gone 

AVhich  fondly  I  used  to  greet ; 
And  where  are  the  daffodils  gone, 

Which  grew  in  the  grass  at  my  feet  ? 
They  have  bow'd  'fore  the  wintry  blast 

That  came  o'er  the  valley  and  slope; 
Their  beauty  is  thing  of  the  past, 

But  its  mem'ry  lives  to  give  hope. 

'Mid  this  cold  and  dismal  array 

I  've  still  some  flowers  for  my  dream, 

Tho'  others  have  left  in  dismay. 

The  crocus  and  snow-drop  are  seen. 


204  RELIGION. 

To  remind  my  heart  of  that  love 
As  chaste  as  the  Hly  flower, 

Gone  away  to  bright  realms  above, 
To  await  the  fond  greeting  hour. 


RELIGION. 


Come  in  my  garden  walk. 

Come  !   come  !    do  pray  consent ; 

Cull  my  flowers,  I  beg, 

Keep  them,  and  know  content ; 
They  Ve  sweets  for  ev'ry  thought, 

And  peace  for  the  troubl'd  mind ; 
Come !    I  beseech  thee,  come  ! 

And  pearls  of  hope  thou  'It  find. 


DEWDROPS.  ^  205 


DEWDROPS. 

Arise  from  your  slumber, 
The  morning  is  fleeting; 
Go  gather  the  dewdrops 
The  roses  are  greeting. 

The  lark  is  proclaiming 
The  approach  of  the  sun, 
Ere  he  comes,  be  gleaning, 
The  battle  's  to  be  won. 

Seek,  then,  the  dewdrops, 
The  pearls  of  the  morning, 
Thou  'It  want  then  the  dewdrops 
Ere  another  day's  dawj>iflSrSS~r7tt^T*-^ 
XTNIVERSITY 


2o6  DEWDROPS. 

Choice  gems  are  the  dewdrops, 
They  cause  no  repining  ; 
Comforts  are  the  dewdrops 
When  Hfe  is  declining. 

Have  faith,  catch  the  dewdrops 
So  brilliantly  shining ; 
Work,  and  by  the  dewdrops 
In  love  be  declining. 


THE   MORNING.  207 


THE    MORNING. 

Hark  to  the  merry  song  of  the  lark, 

Greeting  the  early  morn, 
And  bidding  the  heavy  sleeper  rise 

To  glean  the  ripen'd  corn. 

See  in  the  Orient  sky  comes  forth 

The  ever  welcome  sun 
To  cheer  each  hope,  and  to  tell  the  heart 

The  battle  may  be  won. 

But,  O  listen  !   hear  ye  not  a  voice 

Of  music  from  the  sky. 
Which  is  for  the  ear  of  lamb  that 's  called 

From  earth,  and  all,  to  fly  ? 


2o8  THE    MORNING. 

Be  ready,  then  :  come,  awake  in  time, 
Ere  early  morn  is  past ; 

Go  ye  forth  to  glean,  for  labor  's  sweet, 
And  reward  thou  'It  find  at  last. 


LAY   TO   THE   SEA.  209 


LAY   TO    THE    SEA. 

At  night,  upon  the  deep,  deep  sea, 
When  waves  are  rolHng  high  and  free, 
They  sing  a  chord  of  melody 
Which  ever  speaks  of  mystery. 

And  when  upon  its  bosom  borne 
Away  from  friends,  away  from  home, 
The  waves  are  cheering  in  their  tone 
To  heart  of  wand'rer  doom'd  to  roam. 

But,  O  !   the  sea,  the  wondrous  sea, 
With  its  spray  dashing  merry  and  free, 
It  is  deceptive  in  its  glee, 
Tho'  surging  e'er  so  tranquilly. 


2IO  THE    BELLS. 


THE    BELLS. 

Ding,  dong, 

The  merry,  merry  bells 
Thro'  the  valley  sound, 
And  spread  far  around 
The  news  of  the  new-born  heir. 

Ding,  dong. 

The  merry,  merry  bells 
Make  known  to  the  throng 
Of  the  old  and  the  young 
The  news  of  the  new-join'd  pair. 

Ding,  dong. 

The  solemn,  solemn  bells 


THE    BELLS. 

Ring  a  doleful  knell, 
Heard  o'er  hill  and  dell  : 
The  news  that  one's  departed. 

Ding,  dong, 

The  solemn,  solemn  bells 
Speak  :     Bring  him  along  ; 
Come,  hurry  the  throng; 
Never  mind  the  broken  hearted. 


THE   CLOCK. 


THE    CLOCK. 

Tick,  tick,  lick, 

The  clock  goes  on  forex^er, 
Speaking  words  of  comfort, 
Never  ceasing,  never. 

Tick,  tick,  tick. 

No  matter  how  the  clime. 
Ever  speaking  of  hope, 
AVeather  dull  or  fine. 

Tick,  tick,  tick. 

The  old  house  clock  at  home 
Often  strikes  upon  the  ear 
When  far  away  we  roam. 

Tick,  tick,  tick,. 

The  widow's  comfort  ever; 


THE   CLOCK.  213 

With  all  she  'd  rather  part 
Than  from  thee  she  'd  sever. 

Tick,  tick,  tick, 

Hard  the  poor  sempstress  plies, 
Working  late  and  early. 
And  careworn  are  her  eyes. 

Tick,  tick,  tick. 

The  pilot's  babe  is  sleeping, 
^     The  dark  storm  is  raging: 
But  the  wife  is  weeping. 

Tick,  tick,  tick. 

The  mother  sits  and  cries, 
Waiting  for  her  boy's  return 
To  ease  her  tears  and  sighs. 

Tick,  tick,  tick. 

No  matter  what  goes  on  : 
The  clock's  tick  is  cheering, 
Come  sunshine  or  come  none. 


214  THE   CLOCK. 

Tick,  tick,  tick, 

The  fingers  are  moving  on, 
Telling  of  hours  coming, 
And  of  hours  past  and  gone. 


DEATH.  215 


DEATH. 

There  is  a  great  king,  and  his  name  is  Death, 

And  he  walks  in  majesty : 
For  his  train  is  thronged  with  angels  bright, 

And  they  chant  solemnly, 

'Tis  time — come  !   come  ! 

A  messenger  goes  to  tell  the  approach 

Of  King  Death  and  his  great  train. 

And  when  he  comes  the  very  air  we  breathe 
Brings  the  solemn  chant  again, 
'Tis  time — come  !  come  ! 

And  the  powerful  king  he  seats  himself, 
And  the  angels  dress'd  in'  white 


2l6  DEATH. 

Stand  waiting  the  potentate's  sign  o'  command, 
And  they  chant  their  words  of  light, 
'Tis  time — come  !  come  ! 

And  then  when  the  appointed  time  is  given, 
The  angels  bear  far  away. 

The  soul  for  which  King  Death  arrived, 
To  sing,  clothed  in  bright  array, 
'Tis  time — come  !  come  ! 

^universittj 
California^ 


VB   ll92i 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


